#Is this a greeting? A variant of word up?
Note
BIRD UP!
Erm... hi?
#Urban Dictionary didn't help at all#Is this a greeting? A variant of word up?#Are you just screaming at me with a bird on your shoulder?#Are you flipping me off?#I dunno man
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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠
miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 5.4k words.
fic masterlist previous part pt five next part
angst??; violence; speaking of injuries — damn y/n is in the wars; cute little worried, mad miguel; since I’m going from y/n’s perspective to miguel’s a few times it’s may seem a bit jumpy, hope that doesn’t annoy anyone — miguel gives you shocking news. and as you go to head home you end up in a different universe, meeting some spider kid, leaving miguel and the rest of them to worry and search for you.
You walk with purposeful steps. Passing by spider variants, who spare you confused glances at your almost pissed off expression. Though when one would meet your gaze you’d smile—genuinely, which made them think that a certain person was the target of your anger.
“Oi y/n— wow.” Hobie jumped down in front of you, observing your furrowed features. But yet again they would smooth out upon seeing a face you didn’t want to punch. Pavitr and Gwen were close, coming to stop beside Hobie.
“Hi.” You greet them.
“You look stressed as hell.” Hobie comments, making you forcibly chuckle.
“Not at all.” You quickly say, before veering to pass them.
“You alright, y/n?” Gwen asks.
“I appreciate the concern. I do.” You say, walking backwards. “But I’m in a bit of a rush. And annoyingly this can’t wait.”
“Careful!” Pavitr warns as you quickly skirt past a table your hip almost hit.
“Thank you!” You shout back as you rush towards a certain office that made the lines return to your forehead.
You push open the door, stalking towards the centre of the room. At the outburst Miguel looks down. He looks away knowingly, upon seeing you and your angry expression.
“Fired?!” You exclaim up at him. He doesn’t spare you a glance, continuing to tap and swipe at different screens. “I’m fired?!”
You hold up a scribbled note that said ‘You’re fired as of Tuesday’.
“You still have a day.” Miguel comments calmly.
You scoff in disbelief. “What the hell did I do?! …and can you come down here, it’s very hard yelling like this!”
Miguel sighs, but drops down in front of you. He looks bored. And that seems to piss you off more. You step closer. “You wrote me a note?” You’re still in disbelief. “You didn’t even add the reason.”
“Believe it or not that was purposeful.” Miguel monotonously says.
You narrow your eyes. “Why?” You try to lower your tone, taking deep breathes.
Miguel just tilts his head, observing your antics. You blink. “So, you’re not gonna tell me?”
He doesn’t say a thing, confirming so. You’re beyond annoyed and in all honesty what have you to lose? You’ve already lost your job, for a reason you’re dying to know and your adrenaline enduced veins seem to think that pressuring him is a smart idea.
You step closer, but realise that your “intimidating” gaze is doing nothing, his towering height making you feel like an ant. You dart your gaze around, stopping on a swivel chair, you snatch it, quickly standing on it, so that you’re somewhat of a millimetre taller than him.
“We made a deal.” You say, finally feeling a little more in control now that Miguel is looking up at you.
“And now its over.”
“That’s not how deal’s work.” You say.
“Oh.” Miguel hums. “That’s a shame.”
Your nose twitches as you hold back a snarl. Miguel is an infuriating man—it’s just that simple.
“I’m not leaving, not until you at least give me a reason.” You say, trying to appear threatening. But being in front of a man who looks it 24/7 is really dampening your confidence.
He continues to look up at you and your heaving chest, and face that’s tightened in annoyance. He sighs. “It’s better this way, y/l/n.”
“And why is that?” You try again to get the ‘reason’ out of him.
“You can go.” He turns, beginning to head back. You stare after him, mouth opening in disbelief at his complete dismissal.
You go to get off the chair, feeling your entire being deflating. But your foot seems to miss the step down as you begin to tumble forward. But before you can hit the ground a web is attaching to your hand, and yanking you into a chest.
Miguel’s breathing is displayed in that quick moving chest. One hand wrapped around your waist, while the other—that had shot the web—has ahold of your wrist.
Your eyes are wide at the fast movement of it all. “You want to know why you’re fired?” Miguel begins. “Because you’re accident prone. One trip and you could mess everything up.”
You meet his gaze. “That’s very assumptive.” You say. “You and I both know that I haven’t “fucked” anything up.”
“Yet.”
“Yet?” Your brows furrow. “You’re betting on a ‘yet’?” You step away from him, getting your wrist out of his hold. “You made a decision based on your own wrong assumptions.”
Miguel’s expression has finally changed, actually displaying an emotion—anger—but still an emotion. He grabs the bottom of your shirt, pulling you harshly back to him as his breath fans over your face.
“How do you know my “assumptions” are wrong? Huh?” He snarls.
You glare up at him. “How do you know they’re right?” His grip tightens around the material of your shirt, but you continue. “Right now, if you were to tell me that you hated my work ethic, or that I was genuinely shit at my job, I’d leave—maybe a bit upset—but I’d understand.”
Miguel’s eyes are darting everywhere they can.
“But you’re giving me nothing.” You’re blurting everything you can think to say. If not the job back, then you’re going to get your reason for it being gone. “Just say, you hate the way I work.”
You stare at him. “Please.” You’ve somewhat calmed down. Your face softening to one close to simple pleading.
Miguel gulps, his chest slowing but his heart beating on overdrive. You were so close, looking up at him with a genuine pleading look. You just wanted closure.
His hand hadn’t let up its grip on your clothes, part of him not wanting to let go.
“I thought you said you had to have a reason to fire me.” Your voice is back to your normal tone—one that always made Miguel feel comfortable, safe. Which is odd considering you wouldn’t be able to protect him or practically anyone here. Physically at least.
You sigh, realising that there’s no budging Miguel. It’s him, for crying out loud. You were stupid to think you could get anything out of him that he didn’t want you to know.
You reach your hand down, grabbing his wrist and pulling your shirt away. You back up, hands up in an almost surrender—saying ‘fine, I’ll go’.
Miguel doesn’t like the silent sentence for some reason, his expression morphing back to anger. He again swiftly shoots a web to attach to your stomach, yanking you forward again.
“Can you stop that?” You ask, once you’re directly in front of him again. “At this rate put a leash on me.” You mutter. You’d given up. And all you wanted to do was pack up and leave. Why was he dragging this out?
“Would that work?” He whispered. And now through your annoyed haze you noticed how close he was…again.
But the drop of his tone made your breath hitch, different from before. He leans closer, red eyes fully focused on you. “Would it?” He asks again.
“Would what?”
He tilts his head, licking his lips. “A leash.”
Your eyes widen, as you choke out your answer. “That was…a joke. I was kidding.”
“But would you stay out of trouble if you had something constricting you?”
Your mouth opens and closes. He had slowly been pulling you closer by the attached web, his claws dancing across the orange before they reached the material of your shirt again.
“Es eso todo lo que tengo que hacer, chaparrita?” (Is that all I have to do) He darkly whispered.
You focused on his words. You had wanted to understand Spanish before, but now you’re dying to know. And luckily, in your own time you had been studying—having stolen your phone back.
“No, O’hara.” You begin. “Todo lo que tienes que hacer es ser honesto.” (All you have to do is be honest.)
Miguel stares at you, brows furrowing for only a moment. He looks taken aback. And from his underlying impressed expression, you know your words had made sense.
“When did you learn that?”
“Why are you firing me?” You counter.
And for once, Miguel finally gives in, up to a peak with his emotions. “Because of the fucking attack!” He finally says it, or more so ‘exclaims’ it.
You pause. “The attack?”
He hisses in annoyance at himself. “I’m supposed to be helping people—the multiverse. That was the whole point of this.” He mutters out.
“I’m not following… How did I mess that up?” You ask, staring at him in confusion.
“You didn’t. Which is beyond annoying, because I’d much rather a reason where you were the problem.”
“That’s…very flattering.” You mutter, as he continues.
“But the reason why I’m firing you is because…” he clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment, seeming annoyed to even think of saying it.
“Because you got…hurt.”
And of course it goes in one ear and out the other. Because in what universe does that make sense. You stare at him, blinking too many times.
“What?”
“I’m not saying it again.” He says, stepping away from you.
“No, no. What?”
Miguel is turned away and cursing at himself. Why did he admit that? He should have just said you were shit at your job.
You finally assess his words, maybe not the underlying meaning, but his general words at least. “I’ll be honest…” you begin. “I thought that was in the job description.”
Miguel turns. “What?”
“Getting hurt.” You say. “I mean maybe not that extreme considering I’m behind a desk, but I knew the risk.”
“You knew you might get hurt if you took this job?” He reiterates.
“Yeah.” You breathe. “But you’d understand. I mean you are spider-man.”
“Yeah…” he drifts off. “But you’re…”
“A weak human?” You ask.
He looks away, frowning. “I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s fine.” You say. “I can’t lie and say it isn’t the truth.”
“It’s not—“ he says extremely quickly before he extremely quickly follows with: “—entirely true. You’re also annoying.”
You raise your brows. “So, I’m an annoying, weak human who just got fired?” You slowly ask.
Miguel presses his lips together. “It’s bet—“
“Better this way.” You cut in. “Yeah, I heard you.” You sigh. “Thanks for telling me the reason.” Your tone has shifted to one Miguel really doesn’t like. You sound…disappointed…distant. And why wouldn’t you be? Of course Miguel expected this but for some reason it just didn’t settle right in his stomach.
But before he knows it you’re opening the exit door, giving him a small smile and a nod, saying: “Sorry for the…outburst.” Before you’re shutting the door and leaving.
;;
“Where is she?” Miguel is asking Peter, thankful for once that he didn’t bring Mayday.
Peter scratches the back of his head, pretending to look busy. Miguel begrudgingly turns to Hobie, raising a brow. Hobie looks him up and down before scoffing. “You’re the one who ‘fired’ her, remember mate?” He sounds annoyed.
Miguel swiftly shifts his gaze to Gwen. “She still has a day. Where is she?”
“She decided it was best to leave today.” Gwen says.
“How’d she get a wristband?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes. He slowly shifts his gaze back to Hobie, who is sitting, legs up on a table.
“Hobie.”
“Yes, boss?” Hobie asks, praying innocence.
“Why?” Miguel asks, gritting his teeth.
Hobie stands, walking up to him. “Why do you care? Ya clearly seem to think she’s an annoyin’, weak human.”
Miguel holds the bridge of his nose. “Did she tell everyone that?” He mutters out in question, more so to himself.
“No, she didn’t. I ‘appened to hear it.” Hobie says, making Miguel look back up.
“So she just left?” He asks, his uninterested expression cracking a fraction—only a fraction.
“That is what you wanted.” Pavitr chimes in, twisting one of his gold bands.
;;
Miguel breathes, heading back to his office. Once inside he taps his wristband, opening up a portal. He pauses. Why was he even going? You’re gone, home, safe. Just like he wanted. Why is he messing that up by seeing you?
But he’s already through the portal arriving outside your door. You lived alone so he didn’t have to worry about scaring your family. He knocks on your bedroom door, and waits. And waits. And waits.
Look, patience isn’t something Miguel is very good at, so he twists the handle, opening the door to your room. He narrows his eyes, seeing you not inside. Sure, you could have easily gone out, but as he scouted the room, he began to realise that you hadn’t been in here for a while. Dust had formed on your desk, while your bed stayed untouched and made.
“Lyla.” He calls, her appearing quickly by his shoulder. “Was y/n here?”
Lyla computes the room, scanning for footprints or any of your fresh DNA. “No. She hasn’t been here for a while.”
Miguel goes to turn back to his portal, when he steps on something. Looking down, he sees a bracelet by the very edge of the door. Picking it up, he asks Lyla again.
“Ah, she was here, recently. Only in the doorway, it seems.” She answers.
Miguel goes to pocket the bracelet but realises that he technically doesn’t have any, so he instead puts the bracelet around his wrist, walking back through the portal.
;;
“What?” Peter voices his surprise. “But she was just heading home. She’s not there? And hold up, why did you go—“
“Hobie what wristband did you give her?” Miguel interrupts, turning to Hobie. “One of your faulty ones?”
Hobie rolls his eyes, swinging his guitar strap around his body. “It was a normal one, a spare I found.”
“And you’re sure she’s not just out?” Gwen checks.
“No, I’m not, Gwen.” Miguel sarcastically states. “You really think I didn’t check?”
“Do you think she could have gone to another universe?” Pavitr asks.
“Why would she do that?” Peter asks, brows furrowed.
“Dunno, maybe she wanted to rebele.” Hobie comments. “Wouldn’t blame her.” He shoots this at Miguel, who narrows his eyes.
“I called you all here to find her.” Miguel says. “You seem to have been around her a lot. You’d have more of an idea then any other spiders.”
;;
While the spider-men and woman were all wondering where you had went, you were wondering the exact same thing.
You had been walking down the street, trying to face any form of familiarity. But nothing stands out. This wasn’t your home. This wasn’t your universe.
You keep touching your wrist in hopes to magically find the wristband there, but no, it’s still gone. Where? You wanted to know that too.
You watched as people chatted and ate, many at the city’s cafes and restaurants. It was growing darker and as you looked up you felt a single drop of water land on your cheek.
You manage to reach a bus shelter, taking a seat. Where the hell were you?
“Miles!” A man’s voice calls.
“I’ll be back, dad! I just…forgot something…at school!” Miles answers.
You shift your gaze from the falling sky to a cop and his assumable son, who is rushing down the street. You go to shift your gaze away again when you catch sight of something falling out of the kid’s bag. Narrowing your eyes you just catch what looks to be a spider-man mask, before Miles is quickly shoving it back in.
You then hear a ruckus some way down the street. A shop…being robbed. Then it clicked. This ‘Miles’ was running to the scene, because he was this universe’s spider-man.
You quickly stood, covering your head with your hands, preventing some of the rain from soaking your hair as you rushed to follow. Maybe this spider-man was apart of the spider society, and had a wristband. Whatever the outcome, you felt better that you had somewhat of a plan.
;;
When you reached the shop you chose to wait outside, knowing it not smart to just run into danger.
The fight is finished rather quickly, with a few broken windows and thrown food, but no one from the looks of it got hurt.
And as you began to follow Miles—having spotted him heading to an alleyway—you realise how creepy you would seem just following this kid who doesn’t know who the hell you are. But it’s too late to backtrack because he’s swiftly turning and shooting a web to attach your hand to the concrete wall.
You gasp in shock as the kid quickly runs up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were—“
“An evil dude, yeah don’t worry I started to think so too.” You chuckle, slowing your breathing. Your hand had smacked pretty hard against the wall, and as Miles cuts the web you realise that your hand is partially red and bruised.
“Sh— I am so sorry.” He said, spotting the slight injury too.
You wave him off. “That’s alright. I…uh needed to ask you something.”
Miles stands straighter, probably expecting you to point him in the direction of more danger. “You are the spider-man of this universe, right?”
Miles pauses. “Wait, you know—“ he shuffled closer, whispering. “You know about the other universes?”
You nod. “I was wondering if you had a wristband.”
“A wristband?” Miles’ confusion makes you deflate.
“So you don’t know about that…” you sigh, your plan dissolving away.
“Know about what?”
You smile. “That’s alright.”
You begin to step back out of the alleyway, placing your hands in your jacket pocket. “Nice job, by the way.” you gesture to the hung up robber.
“Thanks.” Miles shrugs, still looking thoughtful.
But as you near the street, you suddenly glitch, hitting against the wall, hissing in pain. Shit, or course. You were in a different universe…without a wristband.
Miles quickly reaches your side. “You’re not from here.” He mutters. He then loops his arm around your midriff, your body continuing to slightly glitch. “Jeez, I didn’t think that would hurt as much.” You mutter.
Miles brings you back into the alleyway, resting you against the wall. “What universe are you from?”
“Earth 1–“ you glitch. Then finally you stop, resting your head against the wall.
Miles kneels by you, still deep in thought. “Would you know a girl named Gwen Stacy?” He suddenly asks. Almost as if he had been waiting to ask someone this exact question.
You quickly meet his gaze—through the mask, of course. “You know Gwen?” You ask
“You know Gwen?” He repeats back.
“Yeah, she’s apart of the spider society.”
“The spider what?” Miles asks.
But you continue. “How do you know her? Wait.” You pause. “You’re Miles right?” You double check, not wanting to seem creepy and stalker-like.
“Yeah…” he drifts off.
“She spoke about you.” You smile. “A lot, actually.”
Miles decided on taking his mask off, either deciding on it being fine for you to see, or knowing that you must know what he looks like already. You can spot a faint blush on his cheeks at the mention of Gwen mentioning him.
“How did you get here?” He asks.
“It had to have been from the wristband.” You mutter. Before speaking louder for Miles. “There’s these wristbands that can transport you to different universes without all this glitchy mess.”
“Wow. Do you have one now?” He asks, looking to your wrist.
You shake your head. “Somehow I lost mine. And to be honest, I didn’t plan on coming here. I meant to go home.” You then get reminded of the fact that you got fired, and you mentally narrow your gaze at a non existent Miguel.
His reason still didn’t make sense to you. But you did get one. And you weren’t one to backtrack on your word, leaving like you had said.
“I’ve helped send a few spider…people back to their universes.” Miles begins. “But that was using something kingpin—this villain, created.”
You rest your head back against the concrete wall, the rain growing louder and louder, and heavier and heavier. “How are you gonna get home?” Miles asks.
You sigh. “I’m really not sure.”
;;
Miguel has gotten Lyla to try and retrace your steps through the different universes. But there’s a lot. So, even though it’s been a few hours she’s found nothing as of yet.
Miguel didn’t know how to feel about the two different options of your disappearance. You could have either gone on your own—chosen to, like Hobie had said. Why you would ever do that, Miguel would love to know. But would that make it his fault if something happened?
He knew you loved your job. And he had fired you, for selfish reasons that he covered up with, it being ‘in your best interest’. To Miguel it was, but you wouldn’t see it that way. He’s sure you don’t.
But then there’s the alternative that you had gotten taken. Miguel barely dove into that theory, his hands turning to fists so tight that he cut the skin of his palms through his suit, his claws tainted with his own blood. He almost felt bad for whoever had the terrible idea to take you.
If you thought what happened to those masked men in the office was bad, then you’d be horrified to see what he’d do to this supposed captor.
But right now it seemed to be worse—the not knowing. He didn’t know if you were happy, scared, living your best life, or…dead.
“Lyla!” He exclaimed turning to her and her tiny computers.
“No matter how many times you yell my name, it’s not gonna make me find her any quicker.” She sing songs.
He groans, going back to pacing. Then he hears the arrival of Gwen, Hobie, Peter and Pavitr. Turning, he doesn’t like the looks on their faces. “What is it?” He asks, crossing his arms.
Gwen looks down. “We found out that…she didn’t go voluntarily.”
There’s silence besides the almost ‘loud’ gaze of Miguel. “What was that?”
“There’s been talk through majority of the universes, about these…guys.” Peter begins.
“And when one showed us a left behind mask, it was the exact same as what those men that infiltrated HQ wore.”
“What do you mean by ‘didn’t go voluntarily’?” Miguel asks, stepping closer to them all. “How do you know that?”
“It’s more ov’ a guess.” Hobie says. “From what people were sayin’, those “guys” never let someone get away alive.”
“Y/n did.” Gwen adds, looking solemn.
“So, you lot came here, with one piece of information saying that she’s either gonna get killed or is already dead?” Miguel calmly asks.
But his ‘calm’ tone isn’t necessarily…calm. It’s more like the calm before the storm.
“It’s information that could help us.” Gwen tries to stay positive. “We can try and track these masked guys. Maybe there’s a base in a universe. That’s where she could be.”
“All I’m hearing is ‘could’ and ‘maybe’, Gwen.” Miguel says. “I’m gonna need something a little more definite than that.”
All the spider-people seem to notice the way Miguel’s expression shifted the moment the ‘masked men’ were brought up. He knows something they don’t. And that seems to irritate Hobie the most.
“Well, what do you ‘ave?” He asks Miguel. “We’ve at least found some’ing. What ‘ave you found?”
Miguel’s gaze is narrowed, his face solemn as he stares at Hobie. Hobie steps closer, his boots the second loudest thing in the room.
“Another thing,” Hobie adds. “While I’m talking…” He taps at his jeans to a beat only he can seem to hear. “I’ve never seen you act—I’m surprised to say—worried. Especially with y/n. I thought you hated her.”
“Mind your business.” Miguel turns, preparing to web up to the screens.
“My bad, boss.” Hobie backs up, a small smirk on his face.
“I thought you two were friends?” Why Miguel was suddenly having this conversation with Hobie he wasn’t sure, he just felt angry, because Hobie sounded so entitled to you. Like Miguel should stay “hating” you and that’s it.
Of course Hobie was just being his normal self, but with Miguel’s gaze glazed over with too many emotions he’s barely felt before, he sees red.
“So, why don’t you seem more worried about her?” Miguel continues.
Hobie chuckles. “You are worried.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head.
Miguel grits his teeth. “Ever heard of guilt?” He asks. “I don’t particularly want her to die. Having that on my back is gonna be extremely annoying.” Lies, lies, lies.
“Sure, Miguel.” Hobie hasn’t wiped his smirk off yet, and Miguel’s temper is rising.
“Alright, this is not helping.” Gwen quickly chimes in. “Y/n’s helped us, and we’re gonna help her…let’s just leave it at that.”
Miguel heard her. But all he can seem to focus on is Hobie’s smug face, as if he knows something no one else does. Something not even Miguel has really admitted to yet.
;;
You and Miles have talked, about a lot of different things actually. You had originally been trying to come up with a plan to get you home, but it soon evolved into telling each other’s life stories.
“Please tell me that is not how Gwen got her hair like that?” You’re laughing.
“I hadn’t known what to do.” Miles groans, slightly embarrassed at the memory of his first day as spider-man. His hand—being extremely sticky—not leaving Gwen’s hair.
“Wait.” Miles suddenly stands, gazing around. “Somethings wrong.”
You quickly join him, darting your gaze around the alleyway. The rain had ceased, so the sound of heavy footsteps were growing much clearer.
You stiffen, as you carefully follow Miles to edge of the alleyway, right before you walk onto the street. But that’s when your heart stops.
A small group of masked men stand, much more intimidating in the clearer light—the rush of the explosion and fear before having clouded your vision. What were they doing here?
“You were supposed to watch her!” One is exclaiming to another. “Now she’s run off somewhere. Did you at least take her wristband?”
Your eyes widen. They’re the reason you’re here? You press further into the wall, listening hard. Why? You desperately wanted that answer.
“Of course I took—“ but he stops, quickly snapping his head in the direction of you and Miles. You quickly hit back against the concrete, Miles doing the same as both your chests heave.
Miles begins to pull down his mask, preparing to face them. But you grab his arm. It wasn’t a coincidence that these same men infiltrated HQ and are now here, assumably having sent you here as well. Something didn’t feel right, and something seemed to tell you that they upgraded in some way since their last attack.
These guy’s suits are bigger, more armoured, with neater woven green stitching. This was obviously some sort of ‘crew’. Most crews are based on a cause. Like the spider society, for example. They’re there to protect the multiverse from inter-dimensional anomalies.
What are these guys fighting for? Could they possibly be fighting against something?
You had too many unanswered questions to let this kid get involved. “Just hold on.” You say to Miles, staying pressed to the cold wall. He pauses, shifting his gaze who you, in question.
“I’ve seen them before.” You begin. “I think they might be the reason I’m here…”
“Then we should talk to them. Capture them and get them to talk.” Miles eagerly says.
You chuckles. “I appreciate that. But I don’t think it’s wise. Not with them.”
Miles goes to say more, when the sound of footsteps near. You immediately pull Miles farther out of view. Then Miles feels it. Instead of the ‘tingle’ he gets when danger is near, it’s more like a foreboding that travels though his entire being. And now he can understand your cautiousness, because for the first time in a while he feels genuinely scared—powerless.
The only thing you can think to do is begin to head down the alleyway, picking up speed. Then you’re both running. “Hey! I think I found her!” A voice shouts, and that’s when you run. The type of run that makes you feel lightheaded, and sick in your stomach.
Miles grabs you, web slinging across a building. “I should be fighting them!” He exclaims through the wind. “Why am I running away!?”
“It’s probably a survival instinct!” You exclaim, as he continues to swing. “Which is concerning since your spider-man.” You mutter this more to yourself. If spider-man’s first instinct was to run then what could this mean for the rest of society?
Then suddenly Miles is getting yanked back, his web snapping, resulting in you both falling to the hard ground. You hit the concrete with a harsh slam, making your eyes blur and your ankle scream.
“Shit.” You mutter. You’re praying it’s not twisted. Please don’t be sprained—you chant in your head, as you scramble to your feet, spotting a nearing masked man, claws out and ready.
You couldn’t see Miles, but to be fair you couldn’t see much. So you ran, or more painfully hobbled away. You had to put pressure on your ankle so that you would move. The man is nearing, his heavy breathing sounding louder than it should be.
But then you feel a hand wrap around your waist, pulling you somewhere dark and desolate. You go to scream, eyes wide, when a hand gets placed over your mouth, quieting any forming sounds that were about to fall.
You can’t see who it is, your blurry gaze and the dark atmosphere making it difficult. You squint, only knowing that someone is pushing you up against a wall, one hand wrapped around your waist, as the other keeps you quiet.
Then you feel a breath by your ear. “Don’t move.” He breathes. And finally the slight accent and familiar tone makes your entire body slump.
Miguel.
You never thought you’d feel so relieved to know it’s him, but once he had spoken, Miguel could feel your entire body relax, nearly sliding to the floor, the pressure you were placing on your injured ankle now faltering.
Miguel keeps you upright, tightening his grip on your waist, as he keeps his mouth by your ear. “Would now be a bad time to ask why you left a day early?”
And you actually laugh, half heartedly and mixed in with a groan of pain, but still a laugh nonetheless.
Then Miguel is moving his hand to hold your chin, as he tries to focus your gaze. “Can you see?”
Your eyes had begun to droop, the exhaustion gradually catching up to you. But then you grab Miguel’s arm tightly. “Miles.” You say, remembering the kid.
“Miles?” Miguel questions.
“The kid. I was with a kid. Another spider-man. Is he okay?” You rush this out, forcing Miguel to place his hand back over your mouth.
“Shh. You’ll get us caught.” He whispers.
You protest, needing an answer, because you could feel yourself slipping from consciousness.
“He’ll be fine. Gwen is with him.” Miguel consoles, seeing your stress. Your shoulders slump in relief, and finally the exhaustion catches up, grabbing a hold of you, as your eyes begin to flutter.
“Wow, wow.” Miguel mutters, catching your dropping body. “Don’t close your eyes.” He all but demands, but it’s too late. Your eyes roll closed, as darkness gives you a hug.
Miguel slips to the ground with you, holding the back of your head from hitting back. He prays that it’s just exhaustion, and nothing more…permanent.
His chest is heaving, his eyes trained on you, while his ears stayed focused, in case the sound of heavy boots broke the city noise.
But he hears nothing of concern, his finger—at first without permission—dragging along your jaw.
Your lips were slightly parted, your body so limp in his hold. “I’m sorry.” He mutters quietly, his dragging finger drifting up to your face, to brush a stray hair, still slightly damp from the rain.
His finger pauses by your lips, not quite touching, just hovering. He’d been in denial. Big denial. And maybe you wouldn’t feel the same, maybe you hated him. But right now Miguel couldn’t find it in himself to care, all the loud voices in his head zoning out to one single voice saying ‘I like her’ … ‘I like her a lot’.
sorry, this one kinda goes everywhere. i needed to add my guy miles <3 i don’t know if I like this one *crying* it feels too random. I’ll hopefully get back on track next chapter
part six is on its way! — thanks so much for all your guys support on this series, you guys are truly incredible
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#the miguel effect#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel fucking o’hara#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara one shot#miguel o’hara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#atsv#atsv x reader#spiderman atsv#spider man 2099#across the spider verse#across the spiderverse
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his attempts at courting you
expl: he finds himself thinking about you more often, wanting to seek you out consistently, and giving you numerous gifts every day to see you smile
a/n: it has come to my attention that the last ff i wrote, (snow day) was not very well depicted for all readers to enjoy, i want to apologize for that and promise that i will get better at trying to make sure everyone is able to read it and enjoy it, my writings are targeted for all | unfortunately, i can not edit it right now seeing as there's a poll going on, but once that poll is finished i will change my wording in the ff
ask me anything masterlist
second person writing no pronouns used
Zhongli often felt himself thinking about you more often while he was working around the parlor. Even seeking out your name in conversations and listening more attentively when someone was speaking about you. It didn't confuse him though, he was aware of his interest in you.
You opened up the warmth in his heart and welcomed him kindly every time you two saw each other. It made him happy to see you happy, and this was evident when flowers were delivered directly to your door one sunny afternoon.
"These are for you," The mail lady said before turning around and walking away to do more deliveries. You didn't even get to ask who they were from before she was gone. Staring down at the bouquet of tiger lilies in front of you, you could only assume that the bright orange and black colors could depict a certain someone's hair color.
It was a nice piece on your kitchen counter and went well with the other decorations spiraling around your house. That was, until the next morning, you were greeted again with another gift. A bright orange vase to compliment the tiger lilies you received the other day. It was funny, why was he going out of his way to send you such nice gifts?
You finally managed to confront him when you saw Childe and Zhongli sitting together on the seats of an outside cafe. Walking over and waving to the both of them. They greeted you back, and small talk was given for only a couple minutes.
"I actually came over here to thank Zhongli," This caught his attention, and he turned to look up at you, "I really loved the flowers you sent and the vase goes really well with them too!" You said while smiling.
He nodded back at you, seemingly collecting himself extremely quickly at the fact you figured out so quick who it was. "I'm glad you liked them," He said.
"I came to give you this in return," You said," "I know it's probably not as extravagant as the ones you gave me, but I like it." Handing over the small gift box, he opened it and smiled softly at the item. It was a small keychain, nothing special, and it was decorated with a lovely orange seem.
That same keychain would be hung up right next to his bedframe, along with variant letters you sent him on the table accompanying it.
Diluc was someone who took courting another person seriously. He found it tradition since his father had spoken so much of it when Diluc was younger. He always wanted to treat the one he loved with respect and be as much of a gentleman as possible.
This was why you were taking a stroll with him through his grapevines on a sunny afternoon. He offered for you to come down to the Winery a couple days ago and you had just gotten around to accepting his offer. His hand rested on your back as he took you through multiple different paths and explained everything. As you strolled, he talked about things concerning the vine, his profits, the seasons they needed to be planted, etc.
You smiled at him, knowing it was something he took dear to his heart, and listened very attentively to what he was saying. In reality, Diluc was really hoping that all he was talking about didn't bore you in any way.
Then, the next couple of hours were spent sitting in his large dining room, eating food made by the cooks in his home. It was nice, and you were very happy that he wanted to spend this much time with you. Diluc even found himself watching you eat here and there, asking you if the food was good or if you needed anything else in the time being.
After everything was over, and the night sky shined over the two of you as you stood outside his doors, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your hand. Telling you how much of a pleasure it was to have you here, and how he wished you could stay longer.
Diluc even offered to walk you home, tediously not taking no for an answer, he reached down to take your hand and hold it the whole walk home.
Alhaitham was very closed off when he first met you, he was closed off with anyone in general. He found it strange that you always seemed to be there when he was thinking about you, and when his eyes would try and search a room in the akademiya for you.
He realized that something had to be done about this, so, he did what any other raging nerd would do, and researched about it.
You also found it odd when you'd see him looking at you from across the library, or holding the door open for you whenever you'd walking behind him. Alhaitham always seemed like the guy who only cared about his own, yet he was so evident in helping you out here and there.
Helping you when you'd be confused about a book, rewording your essays to make them better. Alhaitham seemed to want to assist you with almost everything. This was no different than today.
You found yourself back at the library looking down at a long-written parchment on the forest rangers' activities. Trying to figure out how you could make this work in the essay you were conducting on Sumeru's forest.
This was when you heard the chair scrap right next to you, and looked up from where you had originally been focused. Alhaitham took his seat next to you, slightly taking up more space than necessary with his manspreading.
"Do you need help with that? It looks like a longer report than usual for you."
"Longer than usual?" You shot back, "Are you saying that I'm not capable of reading this?" His eyes widened a bit and he instantly tried to retort his original statement. "No, no, I thought- Well- You know you usually read shorter reports in order to get more details. I didn't think you'd take something this large to account."
His confession made you smile, and you leaned in closer, "How'd you know how I like my reports?" At the response with your cheeky grin, a blush formed on his cheeks before he looked away.
"Scholars are supposed to be attentive, it's natural to know a few things you prefer in order to work best with you."
The response he sent back your way caused you to roll your eyes and turn back to what you were originally doing. "To answer your question, no, I do not need help, but thank you for offering."
That didn't seem to make him budge, because he kept sitting there watching you copy down and write words from the book.
"You misspelled climate."
The sound of a book colliding with his head echoed throughout the library.
Ayato enjoyed your company, a lot, so much that he seeks you out anytime he and his sister go down to festivals or strolls through the city. He always wanted to start up a conversation with you, and if anyone else walked by anytime he'd be down there, Ayato would be right next to you listening with a smile at whatever you said.
Ayaka loved you too and found it amusing that her brother was so interested in you. She often found herself trying to spark up conversations with you, asking if her older brother proposed yet in a joking manner.
You laughed it off, Ayato was nice but you were sure he had other rich and important people to concern his love life with. He was just a very nice man to talk with here and there, and you didn't seem to notice that you were one of the few he'd actually seek out.
That was, until, every time he saw you, he came with some form of jewelry or expensive item to give you. Asking you how your day was, what you were doing, and if you wanted to come to spend some time up at the estate with him.
"What about Ayaka?" You said with a tilt of your head in confusion. He smiled back and said, "I'm sure she'd rather stay down here and explore more of the shops.
Ayaka would have loved to come along, but before she could even turn around, the two of you were already heading back up to the estate.
He catered to you, made sure you were comfortable, and even asked if you'd like anything from his personal chefs. It was a bit much to handle, seeing as you weren't used to living so luxurious, but he was very nice about it all and understood.
The catering didn't stop after that day either, more and more people began to wonder why the Kamisato siblings were spending so much more time outside their palace. Ayaka once mentioned that you loved a certain color, and the next day Ayato was handing you a box with that color, and a necklace with the pearl containing that color too.
He even found himself marching over to you when he saw someone speaking to you in a more flirtatious matter. Moving next to you and asking if everything was alright while his hand wrapped around your own.
#ayato imagines#diluc imagines#alhaitham imagines#zhongli imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#zhongli x reader#ayato x reader#alhaitham x reader#diluc x reader
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Little Miguel, Big Miguel (Pt. 2)
Summary: Miggy meets a few people and he finally grabs the chance to speak with you again. Previous
This chapter was so hard to write oml
Art in the middle by LBY2K99
Miguel x GN!Reader, fluff, lowkey crack, not proofread at all, Word Count: 3, 106
Eventually Miggy and Jess walked through the entrance of the cafeteria, the threshold being much larger than he expected with various spiders on high beams or on a string of web. Others were normal and sitting at the many tables and booths the place had provided.
Was that a T-Rex?
“You hungry?” She peered down at him after walking in front of a counter. Miggy shrugged despite his stomach growling.
“I could eat,” He huffed when Jess shoved a tray in his hand, a burger that had his variant’s mask plastered on the bun. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Huh. A little more conceited than I thought.” He mumbled to himself.
“Hi, guys!” Jess walked past and called out to a group of people sitting at a booth. They all turned and greeted her back before all of their eyes landed on Miggy. He squirmed slightly as Jess walked in front of him and Miggy followed hesitantly behind.
“Bloody hell. Did the boss shrink? That's jokes.” One smirks, chuckling to himself, his voice smooth and deep that melted nicely with his British accent.
The other three are slack jawed, not believing what they’re eyes.
“Did he shrink?!” One with a blue headband gasps.
“No, Miguel didn’t shrink,” Jess rolled her eyes. “This is our new recruit, Miguel, obv–obviously. He's getting used to the place so,” Her hand stretches out to list their names. “Hobie, Pavitr, Miles and Gwen.”
“Is no one finding this strange?” A teenager that looked a little older than him spoke out, his suit completely black except for the red stripes running down his arms. Miles, Miggy made sure to remember. “It's Miguel but…pocket sized.” The girl next to him softly smacks his chest with a warning look.
“He's a kid, Miles. We've met other variants of ourselves before so this shouldn't be different.” Her eyebrows furrowed and the metal piercing by her right glinted underneath the fluorescent lights. Gwen.
Miles pouted. “At least my variant was the same age.” He mumbled under his breath.
Gwen smiles. “Nice to meet you, Miguel.”
“Ah–actually. You guys can call him Miggy or anything other than Miguel. Just to avoid confusion for the time being.” Jess intervenes awkwardly, helping Miggy into a seat by Miles and Gwen. All of them give their own greetings, welcoming Miggy in despite the strangeness of seeing a more timid and kid version of the man in charge.
“Qué tal?” Miles leans back in his chair.
Miggy brightens up. “Hablas español?” He asks Miles. Miles sits up, wide eyed and suddenly nervous.
“Y-yeah, I know un–un poquitito, y'know.” There was still a bit of an accent but Miggy didn't mind, simply chuckling and nodding, subconsciously showing off his sharp fangs when taking a bite of his burger.
“Woah, were those fangs?” Pavitr leans over the table to take a closer look. Miggy leans back. “Are they retractable too?”
“Uh, no. It’s–it’s just like that.” Miggy chuckled awkwardly after swallowing.
“How long you been Spider-Man for?” Miles asks and turns to him.
“Ah…almost a year, pretty sure.” He kept eating, taking another few bites.
“Are you on rapture?” Hobie tilts his head with a raise of his eyebrow, almost with a hint of concern in his eyes.
Bug-eyed and jaw slacked, Miggy snaps his head to Hobie, nearly choking on himself. “No!” He sputtered while Hobie nodded and leaned back as he relaxed. “Shock, what is wrong with you guys?” He wheezed out.
Pavitr laughs. “I like this new little boss.”
“He don’t got a stick up his arse, that’s for sure. Makes him ten times better than the geezer.” Hobie plays with his bottom lip ring.
“Be nice.” Jess warns with her arms crossed.
“I am nice. That was my nicest, actually.”
Jess’s phone pings in her pocket and she checks her alarm. “Shoot. I need to go. Miggy,” He turns his head to her. “We’ll have to finish orientation another time. I gotta head home. Guys, if you could just keep an eye on him till the end of the day?”
The group of young spiders nod up at her, all responding with their own variations of responses. Jess gives a lingering look to the group, eyeing them down to make sure she can trust them. Deeming them good kids, she sighs and waves, walking away to open a portal back to her dimension. Miggy shrinks in his seat, now being with semi-strangers and the only person he kinda knew in this place, left.
After she leaves, all of them begin to ask more questions like how old he was, if their Miguel’s universe was similar to his universe, etc, etc. Miggy tried his best to answer ease their curiosity with a gentle yet nervous smile. It had been a while since so many people have been kind to him.
Gwen mentions your name after thinking for a moment. “Do you think they know about him?” Miggy’s ear perks up at the mention of you. Where were you anyway? Did you leave? He wanted to see you again.
“Not if Miguel allows it. I can see him getting mad about this.” Pavitr rests his chin in his palm.
“Be a bit freaky if I were to see ‘em together anyway. Since they’re always around the big man.” Hobie crosses his arms on the table.
“I don’t think it’d be freaky. Everyone’s making a big deal about this.” Gwen frowns. Miggy droned out their talking, his eyes searching side to side to find and exit. Don’t get him wrong, these are nice people and he can see himself being friends with them, he just…really needed to see you.
Or maybe it was an excuse to escape their gossiping while in front of him.
Miggy slipped from his seat and escaped the flurry of whatever the hell they were saying while they chatted amongst themselves. He used his webs to swing himself to the ceiling with a small fwizz coming from his wrists. His claws poked out, clutching onto the metal as he crawled away, avoiding Spider-Monkey and out of the threshold. He failed to notice a pair of eyes watching his exit.
He hopped off the wall and landed on one of the many beams the building provided. Miggy took a few glances around him to make sure no one could bother him when he lifted his wrist to his face. He hesitantly raises a finger to the screen. Even though it looked like his universe tech, he still had no clue how it operated. Deciding not to break it accidentally, he brought it close to his lips. “Hey, miss…AI lady, ma’am?” He whispers to the watch.
Lyla suddenly popped up on top of the screen, her holographic body standing in front of many tiny floating monitors. Miggy yelped, covering his mouth with his other hand.
“What’s up little boss? Got a question? And no, you’re not allowed on any mission. You’re on babysitter protocol.” Lyla didn’t look up at him, choosing to look at each file and trashing the ones she deemed unimportant.
“Babysitter?” Miggy scrunched up his face in disdain.
She yawned. “Big boss doesn’t want you out and about to other universes yet. Sorry, kid. Now if you’ll excuse me–”
“Wait, wait! No! That’s–that’s not what I was gonna ask.” He panicked, gripping the watch with his hand. Lyla’s heart sunglasses slid down her nose as she turned her head over her shoulder to face him. “I was just gonna ask about…” He saw your form leave Miguel’s corridor before bumping into another spider person he didn’t recognize for a quick chat. He felt his little heart speed up and smiled. “...them.”
Miggy and Lyla both peered down to watch you smile and laugh with the other spider-man. Miggy noticed a redhead baby in his arms. Lyla glanced at him, back to you and then back to him. She stood up straight and crossed her arms after sliding her shades back on her nose bridge. “Oh, they’re way too old for you, kid.” Miggy frowned at the holographic lady. You had finished talking with whoever that was and waved him and the baby goodbye. Miggy’s heart raced as he prepared himself to jump off the beam.
“Whatever, pequeñita. Don’t need your help anymore. Catch a virus or something.” Miggy grinned mischievously down at her while Lyla gasped in shock.
“Hey–!”
Miggy switched her off and quickly used his webs to stick to the ceiling and swung down behind you, landing on his feet with a quiet thump. Hearing that sound, you turned around to check to see Miggy had stood up on his feet with a toothy smile. The sides of his hair had fallen out of place and he tucked it behind his ear as he walked up to you.
“Hey.” He placed his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest to appear more muscular. You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms and tilting your head as you looked at him.
“Hi there. I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon.” You decided to amuse him. Miggy shrugged.
“Guess it was fate,” You snorted but Miggy continued anyway. “I was wondering if you had time for a chat? This is your universe I'm assuming? You could show me around the city. Maybe grab a snack together.” He grinned, looking at you with an innocent expression. But you knew better. Miguel would try the same thing in his own version once in a while.
“Uh-huh, yeah, right. Where’s Jess?” You placed your hands on your hips. Miggy stiffened but recollected himself.
“Busy.” He said, technically not lying.
“Sure,” You dragged out. “Well, I thought you came from a similar universe. I don’t think there’d be much new stuff to show you, kid.” You give him a playful pointed look with a tilt of your head. Miggy tsked, poking his cheek with his tongue in annoyance. He didn’t like you thinking he was just some kid. He was more than that, he’d prove it!
“Well, I beg to differ. I’m naturally curious, y’know. It’s one of my charms so I’d like to see if you’re right.”
“So you don’t believe me?” You raised your eyebrow.
Miggy hummed in thought, looking off to the side. “Not at all. Just a test.” He grinned.
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, I’m not doing that,” Miggy’s face dropped. “But I am just heading home really quick and then coming back here. So, if you want, you can join me.” You offered and his face brightened up.
“Yeah! Yeah–sure, sure. That I can totally do.”
“Great. It’s actually not far from here so we could just walk to—”
“Woah, woah, woah. Walk? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m Spider-Man.” Miggy gestured to himself with a smug smirk, but your face didn’t falter.
“I see that.”
Miggy pouted. “I can carry you.”
You waved him off. “That’s really not necessary. I know you’re strong but–” You yelped as you felt Miggy grab your waist and pull your close. The height difference was a little awkward but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. He wanted to prove to you he was capable and strong. His webs shot out and stuck to the walls, swinging the both of you around while he tried finding an exit with a determined look. You wrapped your arms around him, hoping to the universe that you wouldn’t fall, and he felt his heart race a little faster.
“Directions, please!” He exclaimed, a smile in his voice while you screwed your eyes shut. You eventually felt the wind in your hair and the far away sounds of hover cars zipping past. “That’s new!” He dodged the cars with stealth, clutching you tighter to him.
Your legs became shaky and as soon as your feet touched the ground of your patio, you fell to your hands and knees with a giant huff. Miggy landed beside you, letting you take a breather.
“Estas bien?” He asked gently, his voice much softer than the persona he tried to maintain. He knelt by your side, hugging his knees to his chest.
“Fine, fine. Just…don’t do that again.” You helped yourself up and walked inside after opening the glass door. Miggy followed behind you, slightly embarrassed. He glanced around the area, seeing a void of color all around. Simple grays, blacks, and whites as the palette for couches, walls and the like. It was super different compared to back home. His mom usually did the decorations. Miggy thought this room felt very cold.
“This is your home?” He asked, feeling like this was a stark difference from your personality.
“Yeah, well kind of. I live here with someone.” You reply, rummaging through some things in a different room. Miggy perked up, his lips turning downward and feeling jealous.
“Who?” He asked, looking around to see if he could find anything that showed two people lived here.
You didn’t respond. Maybe you didn’t hear him, maybe you did. Miggy was distracted anyway as he walked slowly around the living room. In the corner of his eye, he saw a box that was out of place on one of the selves by the giant holographic TV. He strolled towards it, its dark purple color being the only thing attracting him.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around touching things.” Your voice was heard behind him, making Miggy jump. He took a big step away from the box, becoming more curious but he respected you enough. “I thought you would’ve had enough manners to not go snooping in someone's home.” You tossed him a soda and he caught it, seeing that the name brand was slightly spelled different from his own dimension. He found it a little unsettling; still getting accustomed to everything.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, popping open the can with his talon. “What did you get?”
You shrugged. “Some things to help out the society.” You walked towards the couch and sat on the far right to rest yourself on the armrest. “Just give me a minute and we’ll head back.”
Miggy nodded along, shifting his weight from side to side. “What…are you to the society?” He asked quietly, almost afraid he’d offend you.
“What do you mean?” You looked over at him, patting the side next to you to offer him a seat. Miggy walked over and sat by you, a little farther than what you offered.
“Like…you’re clearly not a spider person, much less some powers, but yet you’re in the society. You know all those people yet you’re…a civilian?” You nodded.
“Yeah, I’m just a regular person. I can’t climb walls or shoot webs but…I think I have a right to be there.”
“You said you were special. What does that mean?” He peeked over at you, his soda faintly fizzing.
You avoided his question. “How about you tell me about yourself instead?”
Miggy tilted his head. “Me?” He asked. “But…I don’t think I’m much different from your ‘other me’.”
You waved him off. “I’m sure there’s some difference. C’mon, don’t be shy. I wanna know about the newbie.” You cross your legs and turn to face him.
Miggy looked apprehensive, not really sure if it’s the right time to spill his life story but you asked so he caved in.
“Well, I was bitten trying to save my, uh, bully.” He looked down at his drink and took a small sip. Your smile dropped.
“You were bullied?”
Miggy nodded. “Well, yeah. It, uh… didn’t end well,” He rubs the side of the can. “There was this huge explosion when checking out the spiders in Alchemax– my dad used to work there,” He doesn’t look up at you. “My dad’s boss and his kid were there. His son bullied me, sure, but when that explosion happened, somewhere in between I got bit and…I dunno,” He sighed, a clear heavy weight on his young shoulders. “Kron was there and I tried–I did– and I don’t even know why I did but he still…y’know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine but even though he died, he bullied me. But it doesn’t mean he should’ve passed, y’know? Then I woke up and they said my dad died too so it was all confusing back then.” He leaned back on the couch with a heavy sigh.
“I’m…so sorry,” You apologized grimly, guilt eating you up for asking. Miggy looked over at you and gave you a reassuring smile, his fringe falling out of place.
“It’s fine. It happened a while ago. The feeling is still there, just a little less. You didn’t hurt me, promise.” He then chugged the rest of the soda down his throat, feeling the fizz bubble down to his stomach. He crushed the can right after, his talons digging into it and showed you the marks he made. “I got sick powers and I can help my family more now. When they’re in trouble I can just put on the suit and make sure they’re safe.” He beamed with pride and you mirrored the same expression.
“You love your family?” You asked gently, taking the can from his hand and getting up to place it in the recycling bin.
“Mhm!” Miggy nodded. “Since the explosion, we all became a little more tight knit. My mom especially. She became more protective over my little brother since he’s still super little.” He looks up at you as you come back.
“What’s his name?” You hide your smile since you feel you know the answer.
“Gabriel.” Miggy beams. “He’s practically my shadow, which mom doesn’t like. Says I’m too reckless and doesn’t want him to be like me.” He blew raspberries to signify his mild annoyance at the thought.
You laugh and grab a backpack full of things that Miggy assumes were the things you came to collect. “After you swung me around, I think I agree with her.” You joked.
Miggy shot up from his seat and pouted. “Not cool.” But he enjoyed the way you smiled. “Gonna head back out now?”
Nodding, you slip the backpack on and walk with him back to the balcony. “Yup. Whenever you’re ready.” You look at him expectantly. He went a little wide eyed.
“You want me to swing us back?” Lost on why when you screamed earlier.
“Well, I’m prepared this time.” You and Miggy smiled at one another and he looped his arm around your middle. Your hands around his neck and he stuck his web to a building, jumping off the balcony and swinging back to HQ.
A/N: Please forgive me for this mid chapter i'll try to make the next one better i promise
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#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099
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the ghost of you | miguel o'hara
synopsis: you thought he was gone. what you didn't know was that he was waiting for you a universe away... or in other words... miguel is your gwen stacy and in another life, you're his.
word count: 2.5k (unedited as of 07/19 per usual)
a/n: a short (or at least in my terms is short) oneshot of sorts just to scratch that miguel angst itch
you never particularly believed in second chances.
you thought they were something foolish to believe in. often you think that second chances alternated the future that bewitched you with its cruelty towards you, despite knowing that this was what was to become the moment you put on that suit that gleamed to others of pride and glory.
fate as an embodiment is never, and will never, be kind towards you. you never believed in second chances because they were never offered to you because if they were, you could've prevented the entirety that was your life if you could've just chosen a different path.
you could've never gotten the job at alchemax.
you could've never been one of the star scientists that captured the attention of tyler stone.
you could've never met him—the love of your life.
because if you didn't, he would've been safe in the blissful ignorance that was your existence. but now, the haunting image of his face laying woefully in your lap—loving eyes now permanently close, the shallow river of crimson streaming from his nose with pale and dry lips that could no longer whisper sweet nothings slightly agape—is now permanently tattooed in the halls of your memory.
the failure to save the one person you kept to closely at heart served as a reminder that you had a duty to attend to and that you were to attend to it with nothing more than confidence, that you were to never repeat such a feat ever again.
because death offers no second chances to those who he greets. second chances are mere child's play, a figure of imagination that people choose to believe out of hope.
at least, that's what you've chosen to believe.
whenever jessica looks at you, you just barely manage to catch the glimpse of a particular look that you can't pinpoint the exact emotion of. you think it's a mixture of melancholy or apprehensiveness, but you're never able to quite accurately describe the look for it. but it goes away just as fast as it comes, her quickly shooing it away as if it was a pesky spider.
you've never inquired about it. you don't think you should, really, especially considering when she's in charge of possibility escorting you to what you've never known you could desire for.
"i've decided," jess states, a hand going to caress her prominent belly affectionately.
you let out a hum, your gaze not moving from the magnificent view you and her share of your universe's new york's skyline—you wonder how it differs from her own new york. "decided what?"
from her amber glasses, she offers you swift glance. "decided to perhaps let you visit hq once and for all."
it's no surprise that her statement makes your eyes go wide and jaw slack. jessica drew had found you alone in your own universe awhile ago, her being the first proven evidence that there were worlds beyond yours existing... meaning that there was existence of different variants of you. acquiring that knowledge had sparked an excitement in you that you hadn't felt in such a long time, that you didn't even know you could feel.
you wanted to see the other spider-people, a hunger caverning itself within you to know more, see more, to satisfy the loneliness you've felt since the dreaded day you lost miguel o'hara. to know that others likeminded to you actually existed was something you longed to confirm, leading to jessica constantly putting up with your begging to see what the headquarters of the so-called "spider society" was like.
you've met a few already—the rebellious, yet ambitious hobie brown from earth-138, the egotistic, yet grandiloquent ben reilly from earth-94, and the sarcastic, yet compassionate peter b. parker from earth-616. but it isn't enough. a yearn to see all of everyone alike to you grows stronger and stronger by the day, yet jessica is always quick to deny you from seeing hq and the rest of the spider-people, quick to excuse it with her needing to “evaluate you more.”
something about the excuse seemed rather loose to you, as if it was a cover-up for something... bigger? but again, you never questioned her actions because if you did, you could end up screwing yourself over and the possibility of you never joining them was perhaps a pit that welcomed you with open arms.
but now, after what seemed like ages (it was a given three weeks in reality) of consistent "no"'s and "soon"'s, your wish has been finally granted.
"do you mean it?" you whisper excitedly, leaning towards her with a gleeful smile. "like, really mean it?!"
"no, actually i was just joking," jess says with a suppressed grin. you whine aloud with furrowed brows, making her laugh aloud. "i'm kidding. yes, i mean it. i talked with my... my superior of sorts... and they granted me permission to let you into the spider-society."
jess watches with a soft grin as you giddily bounce about the twilight-cladded rooftop, the phrase of "thank you" endlessly on loop from your lips. with no time to waste on either ends, jessica opens up a portal leading to the universe that the spider-society was held in, jutting her head towards it for you to step foot in.
the tantalizing colors of a fiery sunset twirl about in your vision as the hum of the portal whispers itself in your ears. you've gone in portals before, but this particular one forces you to ground yourself and truly acknowledge what was to become of this present moment because the moment you enter this portal, your fate was sealed.
and fate gives no second chances regardless of any situation.
"nervous?" jess asks as she stands still besides you, examining your hypnotized state.
you swallow thickly, despite the smile still lifted atop your lips. "a little..."
"i see," she hums. she studies your features for a bit, admiring the way the sun halos your side profile before her gaze returns to the portal that you still stare at.
jessica suppresses a giggle, with her hand lifting slowly behind you without acknowledgement before it pushes you in with no warning. your screams of terror fall deaf on her ears, her being too busy with a soft fit of laughter at your bewilderment.
"jess!?" you shout from inside the portal.
"sorry, my hand slipped," she calls from the outside, mindlessly examining her fingernails.
"i'm gonna kill you!" you screech before your figure dissipates itself from her view.
jessica watches as the portal expands itself again like a blooming flower before she turns away from it once again, the smile of amusement fading ever so quickly. her wrist lifts itself up and quietly she murmurs into her device, "are you one hundred percent sure about this?"
there's a static that scuffs by before another voice stereos from it, one that jessica knows for a fact that you'll be much too accustomed to.
"there's no going back now."
jessica thinks she might have to put you on a leash. somehow, you've reverted back into a child at a playground from the way you're consistently getting out of her sight, too distracted by all the unique spider-people that pass you.
"i love your armor," you compliment with glowing cheeks to the spider-knight that gives you a salute. "wow, her hair is really cool... i love that guy's webbing! holy shit, is that a fucking t-rex?"
"yes yes," jess sighs and grabs you by your collar, "that's pter. he's one of us, now would you please behave?"
you smile sheepishly at her, "sorry... i can't help but get—a cat!"
jessica slaps a hand to her forehead, rubbing it with annoyance. you're not much younger than she is, but she thinks that there's too much of a resemblance between a five year old and the you that's much too preoccupied petting a content peter pawrker that purrs as you affectionately scratch behind his ears.
while rather a little irked, jessica can't help but feel a little at ease with the more time that gets eaten up as it passes by. she knows it's foolish, but to put off the one thing that you were supposed to come here for was perhaps ideal, knowing that the future truly remains unknown of what to come in the next few minutes.
her anticipation grows more weary by the second, especially as you and her approach the one location that is rarely ever allowed visitors.
she shoots a web and reels you back to her, not wanting to waste any more time than needed. your pleas of wanting to pet spider-cat more are ignored, being replaced with an urgency of, "there's someone i want you to meet."
jess walks you to a darkened and closed off area of the headquarters, one that you didn't know would've existed had she not lead you there. it's dark all around, the wide and vast space only illuminated by the golden glow of holographic computers atop a floating platform. there's no one around, just the hum of the technology filling the void until a voice echoes out from seemingly nowhere.
"you may leave, jess."
your companion offers you a final goodbye, a whisper of "you'll be okay, he doesn't bite." tickling your ear. there's not much time to react, as jessica stalks off faster than you can blink, and the thundering shut of the door bellows in the corridor.
you're left alone in the odd, dark room. it's a contrasted atmosphere to the interior of hq and rather, it unsettles you—especially considering the fact that despite it seeming like you're by yourself, you're not alone.
"are you the person that jess was talking about?" you ask quietly, hoping that despite the timidity and softness of your voice, that it's still heard.
the voice thunders out again hauntingly.
"you haven't changed."
the majority of your voice gets caught in your throat. something about that voice seems vaguely familiar, but seven words aren't enough for you to quite decipher its owner, despite the wisp of the ghost of the past whispering something unintelligible behind you.
"i-i'm sorry?" you state aloud with your voice caught between a question and a nervous laugh.
the owner of the voice stays quiet for a still moment before speaking once more.
"why are you still just as beautiful as the day i lost you?"
your brows furrow. are you supposed to know him? this person?
you're so focused on the platform of computers that it doesn't register to you that someone emerges from the shadows from behind you until the wind of something... someone grazing you. reflexes jumping into action, you gasp and jump back, your feet skidding themselves on the ground too painfully to the point where your balance is lost and your back stumbles first on the ground.
the shadow comes closer to you and fear strikes itself in your heart at last. something about this person is warning you with danger, that something bad is brewing. your hands dig into the ground and shuffle yourself backwards until you hit the wall. your heart is pounding painfully loud, with the rhythm of it pumping through your ears. a scream is begging to be let out of your throat, a certain type of terrified you haven't felt in years clawing at the edge of it, but the only thing that you can let out is a weakened whimper.
whoever the shadow is merely comes closer to you in the same pace he kept himself at, showing no signs of stopping.
the light of the moon that seeps into the rooftop windows suddenly let the light in and spotlights the person at last, making all the resolve in your body evaporate the moment you catch his face.
the face that's supposed to not exist anymore—the face of a dead lover who you watched with your own two eyes slip from your life—is currently plastered itself in front of you.
the face of miguel o'hara stares at you with the same daunting expression you wear.
the last time you saw this face was in the open casket funeral held for him two weeks after his death. you had stared at it for what seemed to be hours in the open rain, trying to come to terms that you will never see it again.
yet here you are, looking at it once more in the life that you thought would never show you any sort of mercy.
"miguel...?"
the person in front of you crouches down to your height and comes shyly closer to you, afraid that if he made the wrong move, you'd scamper away from him like a frightened doe.
unconsciously, you lift your hand up to truly see if what you were seeing right now was real—that your deceased lover was somehow alive right in front of you. the miguel that stands before you lets your hand cradle his cheek ever so gently, like he was made of the finest glass alive. the physical contact jolts you awake again and out of your trance, making you retract your hand as if you had just touched something hot.
miguel blinks. his chest heaves, mimicking your own that pools with longing. he goes to gently touch your hand again, bringing it back up to his face and shuffling his cheek to feel the warmth of it again.
the way his his face fits so nicely in your palm makes your chest burn.
"mi sol..." he murmurs, his lips wisping a soft kiss to your palm.
and suddenly, you're alive again. it's a different sort, the type of liveliness that only love could spark. so when you realize that the very flame you thought could never be lit again is once burning bright, you break into sobs.
your arms wrap around his neck tightly, like he'll be taken away from you all over again. his own go to hug your waist in the same manner, enveloping you in a warmth you could never seem to mimic with anyone else.
"i thought i lost you," you cry quietly, the image of miguel's face during that night flashing through your eyes.
his hand caresses your hair warmly. "i thought i lost you," he murmurs back, his throat evidently tight with a flood of yearning emotions.
you retract back and study him carefully this time, making sure he's here with you right now... alive.
and when his lips connect with yours for the first time in years, it doesn't take long for you to return the favor, knowing that the one thing you've longed for the most for the past years is finally back into your arms.
deep inside, you know he isn't your miguel, just in the same sense that you aren't his (y/n). you know that no matter how many miguels and (y/n)s are out there, no two could ever replicate each other in the manner that the latter wants.
but for now, you let yourself indulge in this second chance you thought could never come to life.
by the power of fate though... it somehow did. and you'd rather not waste any more time questioning it.
#spider man: across the spider verse#atsv#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x (y/n)#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara angst#miguel o'hara smut#atsv fic#miles morales#hobie brown#gwen stacy
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All Things Pink
Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader
Summary || Bucky being the sweetest boyfriend by bringing you flowers on your birthday.
Word Count || 1344
Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings other than some tooth-rotting and disgusting fluff <3
Authors Note || I got this cute idea from an ask @daemonslittlebitch which inspired this fic!
Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!
TFATWS!Bucky Masterlist
Good morning and happy birthday, gorgeous. I hope you slept well and dreamt the sweetest dreams. Are we still up for the date later?
That was the text message that awaited you from your boyfriend of two months when you woke up—instantly kick starting your day for the better. You smiled the brightest and rolled over in bed and laid on your stomach while your legs twirled in the air as you read his message a second time.
Your crush and love for Bucky was so fresh, so new, yet so intense. Each and every interaction, no matter via mobile or in person, had you a giddy, shy and giggling mess. Your stomach soared with butterflies, and your mind clouded with the sweetest thoughts whenever it came to him.
You hadn't even realized that you’d been stuck daydreaming for some time until you got another text from him.
Is it ok if I pick you up at 2?
Good morning, Bucky! And thank you! Yes, that sounds perfect. I'll be all ready when you arrive.
Great! I'll see you then, doll.
See you then!
It was twelve—the morning already late as you'd spent most of the early hours snoozing in and cuddling with your cat Alpine.
You got up, made yourself some breakfast, and ate, before getting ready for the day—shower, clothes, and makeup.
After the refreshing shower, you went to pick your outfit. You weren't sure where he was taking you. Only knowing that it would be casual, so that's what you dressed for. The weather outside was fairly nice. The trees lightly shifting in the wind indicated that it was only a light breeze out, and there was no chance that the few clouds in the sky would produce any rain. So you opted for a pink and pretty sweater, your favorite color, with some light blue jeans, which you would pair with white sneakers. The hair and makeup you did as you would normally.
Time slipped from you, not even realizing that it was two already until there was a knock on your apartment door. Instantly the butterflies started growing and soaring in knowing who was behind it.
You took a deep breath in and out to calm your beating heart before opening the door.
You were greeted with a massive bouquet of flowers—all pink, but with different variants and shades. The face you were longing to see hidden behind all its grandness.
“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
His face popped up from the side—handsome as ever, making your heart skip a beat. His smile, boyish and beautiful, the kind that made the corner of his eyes crinkle, knocked your breath out.
You were completely lost in him, not even realizing that you'd been standing and staring for a whole minute with your jaw slightly ajar.
“Can I come in?” He chuckled, trying to make contact with you.
You slapped yourself mentally to get out of your trance before moving aside for him, “y-yes, sorry, come in,” and closed the door.
He was so close to you now, making your knees tremble. His presence powerful, but not in a harsh way. It was gentle and caring, making you feel so ecstatic and protected. His aroma overwhelmed all your senses as you inhaled him. The fragrance that was quintessential Bucky imprinted itself in your brain.
You almost lost it when he delicately cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin before he leaned in, softly kissing the other. His lips lingered there for a moment, making you feel their fullness and warmth. The sensation spread throughout your body—down your spine and through all of your nerves, making the surface of your skin tingle.
When he pulled away, you had managed to snap out from your state—still on cloud nine but present in the now. You tilted your head slightly and gave him an appreciative and sweet smile. His piercing blue eyes gazed into yours, and you could get lost in them for eternity due to how captivating they were.
You don't know how long you and he stood like this—studying and appreciating each other, but Bucky was the first one to break the pleasant silence.
“You look so pretty,” he murmured as he moved his fingers to hold your jaw lightly.
You felt a rush of heat flush to your face, your ears becoming extremely hot at his compliment. “Thank you, Bucky,” you replied shyly.
He looked down at himself before his eyes did a quick swipe of you a second time, bottom to top. “Hey, we're matching today,” he smiled.
You hadn't even realized what he was wearing. To focused on his beautiful face to notice his soft pink hoodie—the color identical to yours.
“Oh, I-I guess we are.” You looked down at yourself and then back to him. “Um, I hope that doesn't bother you?”
“Of course, it doesn't, gorgeous,” he chuckled as he pinched your chin,” the color looks so lovely on you.”
You glanced down at your feet for the first time, avoiding his passionate gaze, feeling shy and giddy at his many endearing compliments.
Bucky chuckled one last time at the intense effect he had on you, finding you completely adorable and precious at the way you reacted to his presence and touches.
“These flowers are for you.”
You had almost forgotten about the huge bouquet he held in his other hand as you'd been so focused on Bucky only.
“Thank you.” You took them from him and inhaled the sweet aroma of the flowers. They smelled lovely, but they could never compare to how he smelled. The colors on them ranged from the softest to the harshest of pink. They were stunning and would fit perfectly in your apartment.
“I'll put them in a vase. You can come on in.”
He nodded and followed you into the kitchen. As you rummaged through your cupboards for a vase, Bucky leaned against the bar counter, arms crossed. You could feel his stare bore into your back, making you nervous and almost drop the vase, resulting in a low chuckle from him.
Luckily, Alpine walked into the room to see who had been so rude to enter her queendom, meowing loudly, and Bucky's attention shifted from you to her.
This wasn't the first time Bucky had met Alpine, but since he was so new in your life, Alpine hadn't quite adjusted to the stranger yet, still very shy and careful around him.
“Hello there,” Bucky cooed as he situated himself on his haunches, making himself small and less intimidating to the timid cat, extending his hand out for her to inspect.
Alpine stopped when she noticed him and eyed him carefully. She looked up at you, meowing again, looking for reassurance and encouragement from you that it was safe.
“It's ok, baby. You know, Bucky. Bucky's kind,” you cooed.
She looked back at him and meowed once more before slowly walking over. She carefully sniffed his hand, taking her time before getting closer to him, and then, finally, rubbed herself against his knees—affirming that he was now part of the family.
“Awe, pretty girl,” he cheered as he pet her soft white fur. Alpine sat between his legs so she could thoroughly enjoy the gentle caresses and pats, purring loudly. “Yeah, we're friends now.” Bucky seemed so happy to finally be accepted, as were you—two of the most important souls in your life getting along.
“I wish I could stay and pet you all day long, Alpine, but I'm taking your mommy out on a date. Is that ok?”
She meowed—a sound of acceptance.
He smiled bright as he gave her one last ruffled pet. “I'll see you soon, pretty girl.”
Bucky stood up and came to your side, extending his hand out to you. “Shall we?”
You looked down at his hand and slid yours into it, interlocking your fingers. Both of you smiled at the contact and the electric current surging between one another. You and he fit to perfection—a perfect pair of lock and key.
“Yes, I'm ready.”
PART 2
Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!
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#tfatws!bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fandom#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x fluff#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fluff#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel fluff
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Phantom pain
Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.
Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)
Rating: Mature
CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot
Word; 9k
Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff
Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing
A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰
SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST
It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.
You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.
With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.
Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.
Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.
"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.
"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.
"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.
"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"
"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.
"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".
"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".
"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.
"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".
"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.
"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".
"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.
"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".
"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.
"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".
"I can?"
"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".
"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.
"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".
"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".
You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.
It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.
Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.
Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.
You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.
When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.
With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.
Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.
"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".
"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.
You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.
A327. That was the room John apparently was in.
You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.
324. 325. 326.
Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.
With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.
"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.
John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.
He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.
"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.
"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.
You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.
"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.
"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.
John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.
You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.
"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.
"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.
Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.
"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"
"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.
"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.
John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.
You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.
You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.
Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.
Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.
"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".
You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.
"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.
"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.
"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.
A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.
"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.
"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.
"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".
Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.
You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.
You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.
Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.
When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.
"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.
"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.
You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".
Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.
Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.
When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.
You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.
You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.
"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.
"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"
"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".
”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.
”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.
"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".
"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".
"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.
"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".
"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.
Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.
You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.
Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.
You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.
Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.
"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.
Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.
The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".
"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.
"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.
When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.
"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.
"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.
"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.
"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.
As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.
"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".
"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".
"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.
"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.
You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.
Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.
Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.
You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.
In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.
Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.
You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.
If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.
His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.
Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.
As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.
You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.
You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.
"Sleep well?"
"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.
"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.
You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".
"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".
Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".
"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.
"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.
"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.
You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.
Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.
"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.
"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.
"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.
The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.
It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.
When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.
This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.
A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.
"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.
"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"
"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.
He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".
"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.
"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.
"Thank you, really".
The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.
***
When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.
You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.
It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.
Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.
You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.
Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.
You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.
A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.
”Good morning”.
Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”
”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.
”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.
”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.
“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.
”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.
”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.
It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.
”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.
”And you don’t have better things to do?”
”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.
”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.
”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”
Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”
”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.
The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.
”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.
”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.
”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.
”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.
The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.
Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.
”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.
”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.
”I am”.
”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.
”I-
”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.
He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.
”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”
He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.
You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.
His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.
”When was the last time you showered?”
”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.
”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.
A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.
”How long before you can take them off?”
”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.
You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.
”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.
”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.
"Can't wait".
It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.
You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.
Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.
But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.
You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.
With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.
The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.
By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.
You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.
John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.
"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.
"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.
"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"
"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".
Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".
You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"
"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.
It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".
"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.
"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".
"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.
Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.
"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.
"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.
While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.
"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.
Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.
While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.
As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.
”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.
The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.
With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.
"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.
When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.
Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.
Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.
You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.
After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.
Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.
”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.
”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.
”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.
”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.
”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.
You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.
When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.
”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.
”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.
”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.
John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.
You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.
You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.
Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.
You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.
As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.
Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.
Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.
The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.
Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.
John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.
He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.
John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.
”Don’t”.
"I didn’t say anythin'"
You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".
"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.
You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"
"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".
"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".
"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.
"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.
"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".
Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.
"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".
"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.
"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".
Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".
"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.
His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.
"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.
You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".
"Where you do everythin’".
"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.
"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.
"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".
"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".
"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.
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bad at love
Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.
pairing: jt compher x reader
warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)
word count: 4.9k
a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3
It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last.
It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you.
Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado.
If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’.
Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count.
It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way.
JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house.
The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?
You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid.
But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely.
Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you.
By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours.
Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes.
-
Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy.
At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level.
It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law.
Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it.
JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit.
It warms your heart.
So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate.
The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway.
The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander.
-
Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena.
Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell.
Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility.
The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier.
‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass.
He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp.
“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs.
“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”
Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy.
“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff.
JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”
Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.”
He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot.
“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”
“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”
You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”
Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.
Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces.
You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you.
Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16.
Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?
Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer.
He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move.
It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners.
The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy.
He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed.
If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire.
You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more.
He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper.
Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate.
You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently.
“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”
“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth.
“It’ll be worth the wait.”
And worth the wait it is.
-
It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices.
It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too.
It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you.
You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure.
It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other.
You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign.
Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan.
Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up.
-
A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed.
It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life.
There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie.
That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants.
“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is.
He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”
His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you.
“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed.
He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”
You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”
“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush.
“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss.
You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again.
He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth.
The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing.
“I need—“
Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body.
He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast.
Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs.
Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone.
There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises.
Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too.
The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths.
You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch.
“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him.
It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better.
It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips.
Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him.
He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm.
It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too.
Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up.
When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”
“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs.
The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery.
Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall.
You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake.
Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with.
Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying.
“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?
“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.
Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”
JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”
“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”
“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless.
Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”
JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”
That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”
A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.”
Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing.
The reality of the situation hits you.
“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”
“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life.
“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply.
“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”
Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
-
In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time.
“He loves you,” she says.
You’re not so sure.
That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here.
It’s not all bad though.
Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities.
You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?
He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school.
Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat.
“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be.
“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.”
“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.”
It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away.
The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same.
Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red.
It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist.
In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded.
“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head.
Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit.
It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up.
Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled.
One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…
When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan.
“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone.
“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”
“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts.
You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”
He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”
He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked.
True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass.
You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours.
“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”
The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back.
His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”
Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again.
“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact.
“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head.
You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury.
“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”
Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”
“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.”
It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist.
The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door.
“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again.
“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”
“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.”
“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial.
“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug.
Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone, it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother.
#nhl fic#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#nhl fanfiction#nhl fanfic#nhl x reader#jt compher fic#shelb writes
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Neighbor!Reader
Miguel O’Hara who’s scared to let anyone in again.
-He keeps his guard up on a daily basis. Shoulders always tense but still straight as he looks at you from across the balcony. His eyes narrowing and studying every move you make as you continued to speak about your day. He jumps a bit when he sees you suddenly stand, the hairs on his neck raising as if he were in danger, but he relaxes as you give him a smile, waving goodbye as you step back inside your apartment.
Miguel O’Hara who unconsciously looks for you.
-It’s becoming a silly habit to check in on you, whether it be as Spider-Man or just as Miguel O’Hara. Lyla teases him about it, asking why he missed you so much when you just greeted him this morning as you passed each other in the halls. Every time he has to catch an anomaly in his dimension—your dimension—his eyes make sure you’re never at the scene of the accident and always breathing out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t see you.
Miguel O’Hara who goes to his apartment just to see you.
-He practically lives in the Spider Society now, sleeping at his desk or retreating to his apartment there if he had the energy, yet he still preferred to go back to the home neighboring yours. He liked seeing you in the mornings, groggy but still smiling as the two of you talked meaningless things. His mind goes a mile a minute as he sees you yawn, your knit cardigan rolling off your shoulders. He nearly reaches out to put it back until he realizes he can’t and you burst into laughter, appreciating the sentiment as you spot his outstretched hand.
Miguel O’Hara who realizes he needs you.
-He needs you to talk to him from your respective balconies, eyes nearly closed and words slurring together as you cradle a cup of coffee in your hands. He needs you to wave at him as you pass each other in the hallways. He needs to hear his name fall from your lips in the mornings you talk with each other. He needs to see that red and blue knit cardigan on your shoulders, shielding you from Neuva York’s cold mornings. He needs you safe and alive and with him.
Miguel O’Hara who would never let himself have you.
-Not after seeing Gabi disintegrate in his arms. Her beautiful little face panicking as she cried out for him, glitching in his arms as he ran, ran as fast as he could as if he could ever stop the universe from fixing his selfish mistake. He shuts down, never returning to the apartment near yours, not wanting to face you, not after hearing the soft “I love you” from your variant before your voice got cut off. He convinces himself that you don’t need him. You would die if you were with him.
-The little touches on his shoulder, the sleepy grins, the teasing remarks, the greetings in the hallways you never meant any of it. You were neighbors, and it was time for Miguel to leave that apartment anyway.
Besides, you don’t need Miguel O’Hara fucking up everything as he always does.
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#atsv x reader#it’s 1am#I had to write this before I passed out#he makes me BLEGH#enjoy lmao
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but i'm not her
₊˚ପ⊹ summary: reader is part of spider society and in this multiverse you have soulmates, miguel is your soulmate but you aren’t his
₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: angst, lots of angst, death, betrayal, plot twist!!
₊˚ପ⊹ relationship: miguel x fem!spider-reader
₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.5k
you were invited to the spider society when an anomaly entered your world and after wrapping up the fight you were greeted by the leader of the spider-society who had offered you a spot on the team which you had happily obliged to.
at first, it took some time to get used to all the different spider-people who were just like you, there were all sorts of variants, animals, peni’s, gwen’s, miles, and a ton of peter parker’s.
but the one that stood out to you the most was spider-man 2099, miguel o’hara.
sure he was a cold fella when you first met him but he had to have another side to him right?
over the next year or so you started to crack miguel’s shield until you two began to lean on each other for support.
one night that stood out very clearly in your memory between the two of you was a night when you had almost lost your life during a fight.
“y/n, are you crazy?? if i had been one second too late you would have fallen to your death, do you realize how serious this is?”
you stared at miguel in a daze as you had felt your life flash before your eyes. your webs had jammed and you were falling from a building 50ft in the air and all that raced through your mind was that you were gonna die.
fortunately for you, miguel had caught you in a blink of an eye and was now scolding you for what had just occurred.
“okay okay i get it, it’s my fault and i’m sorry i scared you like that..”
miguel let out a loud groan before pulling you into a hug and whispering something only the two of you could hear.
“don’t ever do that again, it scared me, i care about you.”
you let out a small chuckle as you relaxed into his embrace and as you stroked his back you realized you had fallen for the stone-cold man
over the next course of the weeks, you two had practically been inseparable other than the time he spent in his universe you two were stuck like peas.
the two of you hung out so much to the point you felt like he also had feelings for you.
but you were proven wrong when she stepped into the image.
she was a girl who miguel had met in his world, she was funny, smart, and could cook! but most of all, she was another variant of you.
eventually, miguel drifted away from you and started to cozy up on the other you which left a void for you to fill with absolutely nothing.
it was heartbreaking to know that miguel loved you, just, it wasn’t you. but i mean, shocker right? the man who absolutely loves keeping the canon intact and risking it all for some relationship that could cause an anomaly? no way that was happening on his watch!
you watched in sadness as you saw the two of them getting along so happily, laughing and cracking jokes— just like how you and miguel used to.
“miguel, if you ever need someone to lean on, you know i’ve always got your back!”
miguel’s breath hitched a little at her words, it gave him a sense of deja vu, almost like he had heard it somewhere before.
before he could put a finger on the familiar sensation, he had a sense that someone was watching him and as he scanned his office as he caught sight of a spider lurking.
“mi alma, wait here for a second while i go and take care of some business okay?”
he gave his variant of you a quick kiss on the head before he swang off to go find the individual who had been spying on the couple.
"y/n, what are you doing?"
you flinched as you heard his low voice behind you and muttered a small lie.
"was just going to report a mission, usual business, sorry for interrupting."
"if there's nothing left, have to go back to my universe, kinda got something big going on!"
miguel watched as you disappeared into the orange vortex and even after several minutes you had been gone he stood in the same place waiting for you to just pop out but you never did.
"Si tan solo supieran por qué lo hice, creo que entenderían."
"the anomaly is in sight, be prepared y/n"
"alrighty, here we go lyla!!"
the anomaly was a variant of your doc ock except this one was extremely more futuristic than yours.
swinging from side to side, you manage to dodge the incoming attacks and land a few hits here and there eventually being able to slow her down.
"is that all you've got?" you yell as you disable her tentacle attachments.
unfortunately for you, that seemed to have fueled the anomaly's anger causing her to bring out some sort of technology that you've never seen before.
dodging the incoming attacks became harder and harder as fatigue started to dwell in your muscles, after a period of time, she manages to catch you off guard which resulted in you slamming straight into a building.
"holy shit, now that one sure did hurt.." you groan out in pain as you clutch your abdomen.
you pick yourself up and quickly call into your watch to call for backup as you swing yourself onto a higher building to get a good angle.
what you didn't expect for who to come was miguel, it had been quite some time since the two of you had even talked ever since that small little conversation.
it seemed he hadn't expected you to be there either as he flashed you a sort of look you couldn't quite put a finger on to what he was thinking.
"well, a little help here?" you mutter as you feel the adrenaline in your body wearing off.
before you could hear a reply he swung into action to clean up the mess you couldn't have finished which left you to catch your breath for a few seconds.
following the brief moment of rest, your watch started to chime indicating something big was happening.
"canon event happening.." you whispered as you stared at the hologram.
who's canon event? there couldn't possibly be another spider here other than you and miguel, but maybe there was, whatever it was you swung yourself back into action hoping to find miguel to explain what needed to happen in order for the canon to occur.
you saw his figure clearly 7ft away and called for him.
"MIGUEL! CANON EVENT, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?"
hearing your voice he gazes over at you and his mask depicts one of surprise like he hadn't seen it coming either which was odd. he manages to snap out of it and yell back at you.
"STAY OUT OF THIS Y/N, GO BACK TO HEADQUARTERS OR SOMETHING!"
your face contorts at the sudden command, rather than obliging you swing yourself into combat once more syncing with the man beside you.
it had been going oh so well, but you should have known that it was too good to be true.
just as the two of you held the villain down with your webs, some sort of green fog pursed out of its tentacles enveloping the area you and miguel had been in.
you coughed as the weird fog made you feel weak, faltering you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, miguel sensed this and dropped the villain quickly into prison before rushing to your side just as your grasp loosened on your webs.
as the two of you dropped onto a ledge, miguel pulled your mask off revealing a horrifying sight. your body was bruised and battered up, the haze you consumed not making it any better.
"Joder, esto no se suponía que sucediera."
your breathing was irregular as you stared at the man whom you've loved oh so much in the past time you've been a part of the society.
"miguel, i think it's time, i just want to tell you one thing," you choke out as the oxygen flowing into you made it even harder to continue your words.
"please don't die, it wasn't supposed to be you, i thought i fixed it, i thought i changed it." he rambled as tears threaten to spill from his eyes.
you smiled softly as you understood what he meant, he wasn't trying to replace you, he was trying to save you.
"thank you for everything, thank you for inviting me to your society, i've learned many things over the years, and most of all, thank you for letting me love you."
the tears gushed out as he heard your last words, the water prickling her face, with all her remaining strength, she cupped his face and caressed it softly until her body falls limp leaving the leader of the spider society to mourn as he clenches her battered body close to his own.
"canon event completed."
₊˚ପ⊹ translations:
Si tan solo supieran por qué lo hice, creo que entenderían. - if only you knew why I did it, I think you'd understand.
Joder, esto no se suponía que sucediera - fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen
Mi alma - my soul
₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: felt like writing this after i saw a prompt like this on tiktok but added a little twist of my own it, hope you enjoyed >D<
#ੈ✩‧₊˚ lin's work#spider man 2099#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara fluff#atsv miguel o’hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#lyla#2099#miguel o hara#miguel angst#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#atsv#miguel o'hara angst#miguel x y/n#miguel o'hara x y/n#oscar isaac characters#oscar isaac#across the spider verse
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Every Version of You (2)
A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.
~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
SONGS: Daylight - David Kushner and Linger - The Cranberries
CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART TWO: depression, grief, suicidal thoughts, death idealization, yearning for childhood, reminiscing on girlhood, paranoia, nightmares, monsters, dead looking bodies, time travel, the unknown, denial, trauma, PTSD, hugging, embracing, kissing, first kiss, mentions of readers death
TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce
!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!
PART “CHAPTER” TWO:
Your eyes are puffy and stinging. You’ve always hated how weak you are; how easily you fall apart. You thought that you were getting stronger. You truly believed you had hardened from all the adversity you’ve witnessed and endured the past couple of miserable years.
But seeing Leon’s limp body fall into that machine, watching him disappear right in front of your eyes, you feel like that young, terrified little girl again.
The girl who didn’t like scary movies, covering your eyes anytime you thought something even remotely scary was going to appear on screen. The girl who didn’t like to be alone, feeling safer surrounded by others. The girl who relied on a night light and leaving the closet light on because nothing was scarier than the dark.
You want it back. God, you want your girlhood back. You feel physically ill from the pain coursing through your veins and chipping away at your soul. You want your sweet and naive innocence back because regardless of how strong you wish you could be, you’re incapable of it and you can’t endure this. You weren’t built for this. How could you ever fool yourself into believing you could be strong in the face of incomprehensible pain.
You close your eyes tight and will yourself to go back in time. To be in that tiny bed underneath some frilly blanket, comfy in some nightgown with a cartoon character on the front. You’d pull the blankets up to your chin, plushies on either side of your small frame and by god, you’d not just be, but you’d feel fucking safe.
Your blanket would tuck under your feet, protecting your toes from the invisible monsters of your overactive and colorful imagination. And that would remain your biggest concern in life. The only danger to you would be the shadow coming off of some stray jacket, illuminating from the little bit of moonlight shining in through your sheer bedroom curtains.
And you’d squeeze your eyes shut real tight. You’d think about running outside after lunch with your classmates to the playground. Your friend would push you on the swing and you’d wait in line for a turn on the slide. You’d finally accomplish skipping some of the monkey bars as you crossed them.
Your happy place would have you slowly relaxing and unwinding until sleep took you. The imaginary monsters would fade away along with your consciousness.
The morning light would greet you through your bedroom window and you’d sit up. You’d stretch real big and crawl out from under the covers. The fears that stewed within you in the dark would be long forgotten. They’d vanish in the daylight and you would be free of them.
You wouldn’t think about how inevitably night will return and so will the monsters. You’d only think of the present as you got dressed and ready for school. You’d be confident, well rested, and most importantly: peacefully and irrevocably happy.
When you’re young, your monsters don’t chase you into the day. The entire world could be falling apart around you and you wouldn’t even know it. Because when you’re young, you're exempt from the world’s cruelty.
You never anticipate the day it’s all stolen from your fragile arms as it approaches. One day, something that means nothing to everyone else in the world will change everything for you. Your girlhood is stripped from you and the world comes crashing into you. You can beg and plead for that innocence back, but once it’s gone it can’t be undone.
Maybe you weren’t meant for this world, never meant to live past your cherished girlhood. Maybe you’ve lived past your expiration date and that’s why you suffer so deeply.
The world is trying to form a life around someone who shouldn’t be here. People will tell you it’s better to have loved and have lost than to never have loved at all. But they never tell you none of it would’ve ever mattered had you never been at all.
You feel broken to your core. You’re not the little girl running barefoot through the grass chasing fireflies anymore. You’re the woman who just watched the man she never got to love die in front of her, who can only think of the relief she’d feel to just follow after him, join him somewhere better than here.
Anywhere is better than the concrete floor as the world goes on around you while yours feels as if it’s coming to an end. How can no one else feel the complete utter loss?
“Hey, please listen to me,” the man with his arms wrapped around you tries to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring every attempt he’s made since Leon died. But his grasp on you has never wavered. As you fell apart, the man held you and your pieces together, keeping you from self imploding and becoming nothing but a stain on the floor.
“He’s going to be fine. Just be patient.”
Your eyes finally dart up to his face. “Fine? What part of any of this gives you the impression that everything will be just fine?” Your voice wavers, weak from sobbing and screaming.
“I wish it was easy to explain, but I think you have to see it for yourself. He’ll be right back here soon, I promise. You have my word, I swear to you,” his voice is completely sincere, but you can’t help but huff out a laugh at his words. You did see whatever this was for yourself. You don’t think this man can defy the laws of physics, so how the fuck can Leon be okay?
“Let me show you something.” He stands up and reaches his hand out for you to grab. It’s not like there’s anything else for you to do, so you let him pull you up and guide you to the other side of the room.
He stops in front of the body on the floor. The man is on his side, facing away from you so all you can see is his limp form.
You look up at the man next to you with confusion.
You’re finally able to take in his appearance. The man has dark brown hair and a beard to match, both tidily trimmed. His dark eyes are complemented by his dark, prominent eyebrows. His broad shoulders match his large presence, his arms damn near the size of a person’s torso. The man could crush your body within the palm of his hand and not break a sweat. It’s intimidating, no matter how gentle he seems.
“You see him breathing, right?”
You look down at the body beneath you and see a slow heartbeat. At least he’s not dead, but it doesn’t change how weird it is that he fell at the same time that… Actually you’re not going to think about that right this second. If you want to properly process any information at all, you have to focus on what’s in front of you and not the tsunami growing inside of you.
You nod slowly, prompting the man to continue.
“Walk around to his other side and get a good look at his face.”
You raise your eyebrows in confusion, not following with what this has to do with Leon being somewhere in a tank allegedly alive and well.
“Go ahead, it can’t hurt to look. Just don’t touch him. What he’s going through right now is still super new and we don’t know how outside forces on his body will affect him.”
Sighing, you give in and slowly walk around the man on the ground. His face is tucked against the floor so you have to squat down to see it properly.
You take in the man's features and immediately recognize him, or who he looks like more accurately.
“Um,” you pause as your brain tries to formulate words while it still feels like mush, “He looks like Leon.”
“He does?”
“Well, yeah, he does. He looks like Leon maybe, I don’t know, 5 or so years ago.” You look up at the man, searching his face for answers but not finding anything. You’re not even sure what you’re looking for and it’s starting to irritate you how he isn’t actually explaining anything.
“It is.”
“Come again?” You question.
“It doesn’t just look like Leon from 1998, it is Leon from 1998. That’s where he’s from.”
You laugh as the man jokes with you. Now isn’t the time for stupid jokes, but it feels good to laugh. Maybe he knows you need to laugh after the breakdown of the millennia.
“I’m serious. And the man up above the tank?” He points up at him and your eyes follow. “That’s Leon from 2014, from the future. He’s the reason we’re all here, but he’ll explain that to you more when you’re ready.”
You just stare up at him, waiting for him to drop the bit but he doesn’t falter.
“I know we’re far away from him, but doesn’t he look like an older Leon? And it’s pretty crazy that the man on the floor looks exactly like Leon used to. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially at a time like this. You may not believe me now, but it will start to make more sense. Well, as much sense as it can make.”
You continue to stare at him, the face crack has to be coming soon. Much to your surprise, his face remains deadass serious.
You rub your eyes, trying to relieve the ache from the dryness. Willing them to refocus and make things make sense.
You look back down at the man on the floor with the dirty blond fringe, the soft jawline with supple but plump lips. He’s so goddamn beautiful and unmistakingly Leon, just as you remember him from Racoon City.
“R-Rookie?” Your voice breaks. You feel the need to cry but there’s just no more tears left for you to cry. The rivers have run dry.
Your body aches with the need to reach out and touch him. To feel his soft skin and confirm he’s real and right here in front of you. Something to assure you this isn’t some twisted dream you need to wake up from.
But that’s wishful thinking. Your emotions and deep rooted pain is too intense for it to be a dream and you know it. Your brain could never concierge up something like this. Your brain could never allow you to stay asleep as your heart breaks. You always wake up when the nightmare gets too bad, and it’s been beyond terrible since the moment these men showed up.
“We’re ready to wake one of them up now. Which one do we pull out, Chris?” The man at the functions panel calls over to us.
“Rookie.” The man that you now know is called Chris answers almost immediately.
“And does the senorita agree?”
Your head darts up and your eyes connect with the other mans.
“Please.” Your voice is barely a shaky whisper.
He nods his head, his shaggy dark brown–almost black hair falling back over his shoulder as he focuses back on the panel.
You look back over the sleeping Leon, you can’t help the small smile that slips out as you admire the sweet rookie. Maybe you’ve gone crazy and this is all a delusion, a way for your brain to cope with trauma, but you’re so happy to see his younger self. He still has that boyish look to him, a hopefulness about him even while fast asleep.
A bittersweet feeling creeps up on you. You watched as the light in his eyes slowly dulled out. As the horrors he’d seen and people he’d lost slowly chipped away at his mental health. It’s so sweet to see him and remember the happy go lucky rookie he once was, but it’s such a bitter pill to fucking swallow knowing how it’s all ripped away from him quicker than he can even process it.
He still hasn’t had that time to process everything that’s happened over the past few years. You’ve always encouraged him to go to therapy and come to terms with it all, but he isn’t ready to cope with the trauma. If he can push it away, maybe, just maybe it’ll be less real. He wouldn’t need to cope with it if he just never allowed himself to get into it.
Leon groaning on the ground beneath you pulls you from your thoughts. You fall to your knees as you fight to keep your hands at your side. You don’t want to hurt him and no one has told you if it’s safe to touch him yet.
His eyes twitch as he rolls onto his back.
“Leon?” You speak quietly, hesitantly. His eyes finally snap open as he looks over at you.
A smile breaks across his face despite him wincing in pain against the unforgiving concrete floor. “Funny seeing you here.”
“Yeah,” you speak on a huff of air. Because of course he’s joking and spouting out some bullshit one liner at a time like this.
You reach your hands out in an offer to help him up and he slowly obliges. His eyes widen as you actually use your strength to help pull him up.
“Okay, muscles. When’d you get those?” He says with amusion filling his voice.
“Well, I’m not just some archivist for the police department anymore.”
“What happened?” His concern and confusion is clear as he tilts his head slightly. Did they pull Leon from before the outbreak? Does he not know of the horrors you faced through those dreadful late September nights?
“What time is it, like, where you’re from?”
“Um,” he closes his eyes as if deep in thought. “September 1998. Like the 20th was when these assholes showed up.”
So he hasn’t lived through the outbreak yet. Interesting.
He started with the RPD in early September, before everything went to shit. You didn’t start much earlier than he did–some time mid summer. You two only talked briefly when you would run into each other throughout the station. You didn’t form a bond until after that night. A zombie apocalypse and killing the rotting shells of your former friends and colleagues will do that to you. The giant fucking tyrant and monsters didn’t help either.
“Do you know why you’re here? Why either of us is here?” You ask, finally feeling like maybe you’re ready to talk about it. You trust Leon more than anyone else. This is still your Leon, just from the past you suppose. It’s still weird to think about, but there’s bigger issues at hand currently.
“Hardly. They’ve explained some stuff to me but I don’t understand any of it. Guess I’m just here for the ride.”
Your heart sinks at his response. The one person you trusted to be honest and explain things to you doesn’t know what’s going on either.
Chris speaks up, “He’s here to help you. Sure, you could recognize an older Leon but you’d know a younger Leon. We could’ve left him out and just came back here to your current Leon, but Leon wanted you to be comfortable. He wanted to do everything he could to help you understand and just believe us in general.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “But why? Let’s say this is time travel or whatever the fuck, why are you doing any of this? What’s the end goal?”
“I think it’d be better for Leon to explain it to you.” You whip your head towards the Leon standing beside you, but Chris shakes his head and continues, “Not that one. The older version. We’ll call you Rookie, you know, just to make things clearer.”
“I don’t know how this could ever be clearer.”
“Maybe we should put you back to bed, Rookie.”
“Maybe we-”
Rookie is cut off by the man at the control panel speaking again. “I’m going to wake up the big boy now.”
You and Rookie go silent as Chris joins the other man at the panel.
“Do we really need to wake his grumpy ass up yet, Luis?”
“Don’t you worry. She’s here now so he’ll be in better spirits.”
“You’re so sure?”
“No,” Luis turns to face you. “Hey if Leon is being an asshole, feel free to put him in his place for us. You’re the only one who might be able to.”
Leon on top of the platform shoots up from where he’s laying with a loud gasp. He massages his temples as his chest heaves.
“Fuck, that’s the last time we have to do that right? Shit’s fucking painful.”
Luis speaks in a taunting voice, “Good morning sunshine. Wake up on the wrong side of the bottomless vat?”
Leon doesn’t speak, only shooting daggers at Luis with his eyes. Luis just shakes his head as Leon climbs slowly down the ladder.
“It’s the last time,” Chris does his best to assure Leon.
“Fantastic.” Leon marches over to the control panel, before crossing his arms over his chest.
“We’re doing this all for you. You remember that right?” Chris arches an eyebrow at Leon.
“Doesn’t make it any more comfortable.”
Luis and Chris shake their heads at Leon’s attitude before quietly talking amongst themselves. Leon just stands there, staring off into the empty vat of liquid.
“Leon?” You speak quietly, but Leon instantly hears it. Almost as if he’d be listening and waiting for your voice.
He whips around and looks over at you. He doesn’t move a muscle once his eyes meet yours. His eyes well up with moisture and unspoken emotions. You can see his chest rapidly rising and falling. He looks like his body is vibrating purely from intense thoughts and feelings, raging inside of him until his body is left paralyzed, unable to feel anything besides the deep, dark ache.
In an instant, something snaps inside of him and he’s taking long strides directly in your direction. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he reaches you in a mere seconds, taking you into his arms and wrapping his biceps around your neck. You’re pulled against his chest before your brain can even catch up, before it can even process that he’s hugging you.
Despite the anxiety of being in such close proximity to him, you’re also overcome with an overwhelming calmness. You melt beneath his touch and allow yourself to relax completely within his arms. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before. Nothing has ever felt so perfect in your entire life. Nothing’s ever felt this fucking right.
He nuzzles his face into the top of your hair, breathing in so deeply, as if you are his life support machines and he’d cease to exist without you against him. And you hadn’t realized it until today, but it’s the same way for you. Who are you without him? You’d be the first to admit it’s super unhealthy to feel this way, but it was never intentional. You feel like you belong right here and it makes your heartbeat stutter to think that maybe he feels the exact same way.
He releases his grip on you and pulls back just enough to look down at your face. His hands cup your cheeks as he takes you in, looking as if he’s in an absolute trance. As if he can’t believe you’re right here in front of him. You’ve never felt so adored or appreciated as you do while he stares at you with this bewildered look on his face.
Your eyes instinctively close and your brain is slow to catch up with what’s happening. Your eyes dart open again once you process the fact that his lips are against yours. He’s kissing you. You’ve never kissed Leon before.
Of course you’ve thought about, fantasized about him in ways you could never speak out loud. It feels better than you ever imagined and it has your eyes falling shut once again. Before you realize it, you’re wrapping your arms around his waist tighter, pulling him even more closely into you. You cling to him as if you’re an open wound and he’s the pressure keeping you from bleeding out completely. You’re the wound and he’s the fucking suture.
You know it’s fucked up to have never admitted your feelings for Leon out loud before, and yet, you’re here lip locked with his older self. None of it makes any fucking sense but somewhere deep inside of your soul, it’s the only thing that’s ever made any sense at all.
When he deepens the kiss, you welcome him into you without any objections. You let him piece you back together with nothing more than his touch.
He releases your face and slides his hands down your body until he reaches the back of your thighs, pulling your feet off of the ground so you’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his midsection.
You know somewhere in this room are three other people, or rather two other people and another version of Leon, but you can’t find it within you to care. To even allow yourself to focus on having any sort of shame when he clearly has none. You’ve never needed anything more than you need this man right fucking now.
You know the fact you’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster all fucking day is amplifying your need, but it feels so good. You just want to feel good, you want him to make you feel good.
Your lips finally separate and your foreheads press into each other. You stay there perfectly still as you breathe each other’s air. Your breath is his and his breath is yours.
“Le-Leon,” you stutter out breathlessly but he just shushes you. His lips grazing yours as he continues to hold you so close, unable to withstand even a centimeter existing between the two of you.
He pulls back so he can look directly into your eyes intensely.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you again. You’re not dying on me this time. I don’t want to live without you anymore, I can’t fucking do it, okay? A life without you isn’t a life worth living for me.”
Dying? What the fuck is he talking about?
#leon kennedy fanfiction#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x y/n#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#resident evil#resident evil 2#resident evil 4#resident evil 6#resident evil fanfiction#every version of you#EVOY#ghostkennedy
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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭
miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words
fic masterlist previous part pt four next part
violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.
It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.
Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.
You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.
You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.
Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.
You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.
But where are the others?
Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.
Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?
You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.
“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”
You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.
“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.
“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.
“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.
“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”
“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.
“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.
And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.
“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.
The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.
;;
“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.
“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”
“Boss, they’ll be back.”
Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.
“Who even made you in charge?”
“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”
“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.
“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.
“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”
“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.
“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”
The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”
Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”
Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.
Then all sound is gone.
He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”
Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.
“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”
“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.
“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“
“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.
“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“
“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.
“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.
“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”
“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.
“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.
;;
You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.
The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.
He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.
“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.
One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”
You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.
You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.
But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.
There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.
You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.
The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.
You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.
You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.
Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.
But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.
Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.
Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.
It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.
But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.
Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.
Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“
He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.
Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.
Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”
You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.
You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.
“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.
“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”
“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”
“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.
Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.
“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”
Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.
You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“
“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.
“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”
“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.
“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“
“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.
“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.
“Well, that stupid.” He says.
“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”
“Recompose yourself?”
“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.
Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.
“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.
“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.
“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”
You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.
You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”
He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”
“I’m fine.”
“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”
You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“
“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.
He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.
Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.
The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.
He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.
Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.
Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.
You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”
Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”
You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.
The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.
You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.
You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.
If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.
You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.
;;
Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”
The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.
And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.
“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.
“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.
“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.
Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”
“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”
The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”
The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.
“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.
“I do. I’m sorry.”
“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”
“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”
“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.
“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”
Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”
“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.
“Miguel—“
“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.
;;
You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.
Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.
Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.
You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.
“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.
You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.
“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.
Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”
“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.
“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.
“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.
You look up. “Mm?”
“The reason I’m covered in blood.”
“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”
“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”
You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.
“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.
“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”
You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“
“Just be honest.”
“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.
You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”
He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”
“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.
You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”
Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.
You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.
“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.
Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”
“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.
“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”
“That’s not a good reason at all.”
“But your walking my way aren’t you?”
Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.
But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”
No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.
He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.
Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.
Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.
You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”
“Bad?”
“Mhm.” You nod.
“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.
“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”
Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”
Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.
Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.
“Sorry.” You mutter.
“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”
You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”
His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”
You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”
“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”
“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.
Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.
“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.
“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”
God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.
You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”
Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”
You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”
“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.
“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”
You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.
“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.
You sigh. “I just—“
“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.
“Do I scare you?”
Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“
“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”
His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”
“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.
You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.
But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”
You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.
While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.
You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.
He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.
okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn
again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.
and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH
taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright
taglist #2 taglist #3
#the miguel effect#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara one shot#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x reader#spiderman atsv#atsv#across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#spider man#spider-man 2099#spiderman 2099#marvel
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miguel w his preg wife. he'd take such good care of you 😋 even though you insist that you can do your usual activities on your own, it doesn't stop him. at all. he even gets up earlier than you to make you breakfast and help you waddle to the bathroom. he hates, hates, HATES being away from you to do vigilante work. when he's gone, lyla is your bff / babysitter. your treated lavishly, of course. miguel makes it a staple to come home every night, the secret mother hen that he is. he helps you shower and trim yourself up when needed, helps your mood swings without complaint. carries you into bed no matter how exhausted he is. he even is protesting you treating his wounds because he doesn't wanna stress you. massaging your bump with shea butter, massaging your sore body at night as he tells you about his day. miguel makes it to most appointments. he tries his best. unless he's literally being crushed by a building ( which he has ) he'll make it. he once stumbled in with a lazy outfit thrown over his suit. miguel went from little spoon to big spoon. from burrowing his head into your chest at night, he listens to your little one's heartbeat at night, his hand closing over your stomach. god, not to mention the cravings. miguel tries not to give you too many questioning looks, since he cant decide if you'll laugh at his faces or cry at them. he tries your weird concoctions. even if they make him want to vomit. miguel daydreams about baby names, alot.
one of the days he's working in his office, you're waddling in the spider society in your maternity clothes and ratty slippers. almost every spider is polite to you as you make your way throughout the dizzying halls. despite lyla's protests, you wanted to see miguel without him tearing himself away from important work. you soon opt to rolling around in a office chair after walking like 4 very long hallways. lyla even tries to stop you from rolling into the villain sections, which you had to admit was cute. you greet some villains that you had taken a liking to, like that prowler variant from earth-199999 and that female variant of doctor octavious. when you roll into his office, eating some weird combination from the cafeteria, he greets you with a cold, unfeeling voice. miguel's facing away from you, which explains why you don't want to get that mad. once he hears your voice, he even stops his platform quirk and jumps down to get to you quicker. worry flitting over his features, he inspects you quickly. "¡mi vida! que estás bien?" you wave him off, standing with a groan to wrap your arms around his frame ( that eclipses yours completely ). seeing your smile nearly melts away his worries as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. " si, si. yo estoy bien, cariño. solo quiera ver tu cara, oír tu voz."
hi i just had alot of word vomit about him
ugh 💔💔 bae you ate 💔💔
#the lil detail about the shea butter ?!#yeah.#˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. mcon mail 💌#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#[mail: pudb1e]
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Hey! could request gwen x fem reader (who is also a spider woman) where gwen gets jealous but everything is cute and healthy? you!!
Just Admit It - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot
A/N: Yeah, of course! Enjoy!
SUMMARY: Gwen’s jealous, and you know why.
WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Swearing, Healthy Jealousy, Spoilers for Across the Spiderverse. Fem!Reader.
WORD COUNT: 1700+
You had a lot of secret admirers.
Gwen was well aware of that, and she certainly didn’t like it.
Coming back from a mission with your girlfriend in tow was a usual routine for the both of you. By the end of your jobs, you and her would find yourselves equally tired and more than ready to head to bed. However, recently, and for some unknown reason, you had a lot of Spider-People from the society greet you whenever you would make your way through the crowds of different variants. Even the Spider-Car would honk at you frantically just to gather your attention, and even though it was a literal vehicle, you’d always find yourself sending it a friendly wave, before addressing the other superheroes that passively begged for your attention.
There was one particular night when you and Gwen came back through a portal that led to a universe that had been disrupted. It was a long and grueling mission that had been full of tampering with the timeline and the important characters within it, but you and your partner still had managed to succeed in the task the two of you were meant to complete. You were exhausted, your feet dragging as you walked back to the quarters that you and your girlfriend claimed, and even though your hand sat snug in the blonde’s, and you showed no sign of wanting to talk to anyone, you still had the usual Spider-Person bound up to you.
“Hi, hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I just want to say that I’m a huge fan!”
Excitement radiated off of them the moment they stopped to stand in front of you and Gwen. They rambled on and on about how they loved you out of all the other Spider-People in the society, and although you knew that sentiment was meant to be taken as a compliment, it felt more backhanded than anything else. Still, you simply nodded your head and smiled awkwardly as you attempted to discreetly move yourself away from the engagement. However, the moment you tried stepping past them, they grabbed your wrist and forced you to stop once more. The second they touched you, you could feel the hand that you held squeeze around your own tightly, and you even felt yourself grow annoyed at the lack of boundaries that the masked vigilante showed.
“Hey, listen…” You eventually just decided to be blunt and rip your wrist out of their grasp, which they – surprisingly – didn’t seem to be upset about. They only excitedly nodded their head in expectation at what you were about to say, and you made sure to sweeten your tone to showcase somewhat of a condescending attitude towards them. “I appreciate the kind words, really… but shitting on all of your allies for the sake of getting on one's good side isn’t a very good look.” You raised an eyebrow at the Spider-Person. “Maybe try a different… approach next time when you’re talking to someone you claim to admire.”
Even though their face was shrouded by the mask they wore, you could see the way they suddenly deflated at your statement. “Oh… um–” You noticed the way they gestured their hands, trying to scramble for some sort of response to what you had said, and Gwen had to stop herself from letting out a scoff at their unwillingness to shut up and just apologize for their rudeness.
She suddenly stepped forward, and you felt your heart jump slightly when she let go of your hand to wrap her arm around your waist. “If you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I have places to be.” She pulled you into her side for safe-keeping – as well as to try and enunciate what she had said through an action, and you felt yourself smirk from behind the mask that you still continued to wear, when you glanced over at the blonde and saw the way her spider eyes narrowed at your shared ‘ally.’ “So, uh… with that being said… bye!”
You didn’t have much of a chance to gather your bearings, before you were tugged along by Gwen. Her arm remained around your waist as you and her left the adoring Spider-Fan in the dust, and although you were slightly amused by her eagerness to escape the impendingly awkward conversation, her lack of communication acted as a loud ping in your mind. It didn’t take Einstein to realize that she was clearly jealous. The way you felt her fingers curl in to hold onto you tighter, even though you and her both knew that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. The way she sighed every few moments, which made you think that she was just trying to calm herself, and not get overwhelmed by the engagement that happened not even a minute ago.
You knew how she got when she was jealous.
She was exuding all of the signs of it.
You chose not to speak on it while the two of you walked back to your quarters. She was silent and brooding, and you remained thoughtful and attentive. It wasn’t the first time jealousy had consumed her. You knew that she didn’t like to talk about it in a place where everyone could easily hear, and she wasn’t necessarily the type to openly admit that she was a little envious of the fact that your attention had been taken away from her. You had done the song and dance countless times. It wasn’t anything new to you at all. Still, though, navigating the confrontational aspect of it always deemed itself to be a difficult task for you.
By the time you stepped in the room you shared with Gwen, she was already unzipping her suit and readying herself for the more comfortable outfit that she had made sure to lay out, before going on her mission with you. You would have followed immediately after, though you busied yourself with closing the door behind you and locking it for better privacy. Of course, your lack of sound gathered your girlfriends’ attention, and so as you pulled off your mask and set it on the dresser that sat against the wall next to you, the woman turned around, all while she pulled her shirt over her head and eventually focused her gaze onto you.
You glanced over at her, giving her a side-eye, and you had to hold yourself back from smirking, when you noticed the way she pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. You knew that she knew you were subtly trying to get her to fess up about the jealousy that she showed earlier. But because of how stubborn she was, she decided to keep her mouth shut, while you busied yourself with taking off your own suit. Her pupils followed your every movement. From the way you almost tripped as you pulled your leg out of the tight-fitting outfit you wore to be Spider-Woman, to the way the muscles on your body – defined or not – slightly showed, due to the simple actions you would intentionally or unintentionally make.
Only after you leaned down and picked up your suit to fold it did Gwen eventually speak up.
“Okay, so maybe I got a little jealous back there,” she stated quietly, as she flickered her eyes away from you to stare at the door of your shared quarters. You didn’t verbally respond to what she had said, and so when she heard a quiet hum come from you, she snapped her focus back towards you once more. Somehow, you had slipped on some comfortable clothes in the time she averted her gaze, and although your quickness caught her off guard, she ignored her growing questions and continued to defend her name. “I mean… do you blame me…?” You silently settled your outfit onto the dresser, next to your mask, and that only seemed to spur the blonde on even more. “They were, like… super close to you! Like, too close!” she exclaimed, “It literally looked like they were about to smother you.”
Gwen’s fleeting statement caused you to let out a humorous huff, before you turned around and leaned up against the edge of the dresser. “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” Your eyes met her own as you raised your eyebrows at her.
She shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe a little bit… but you get my point.”
You smiled at Gwen, as you folded your arms over your chest and tilted your head to the side. “Well, just know that you don’t have to worry about someone sweeping me off my feet,” you stated, making sure to line your tone with assuredness, as you pushed away from the dresser and walked forward, just so you could meet your girlfriend in the middle. “I love you and only you. No other Spider-Person – or random civilian on the street – can take that away from you.” You uncrossed your limbs and rested your palms against the balls of her shoulders, before you gave them a firm, reassuring squeeze.
“I know you do.” Gwen lulled her head to the side and frowned faintly, before she fell into you and wrapped her arms around your waist, which caused your own to do the same to her body. “I just wish other people knew that you’re my girlfriend,” she admitted, while she rested her chin on your shoulder and mindlessly stared towards the door that led out of your shared room. “I don’t know what else I have to do to make it more obvious.” You hummed thoughtfully at her words, albeit muffled, but she wasn’t done, when you heard her let out a sigh and tighten her hold around you, limbs winding around you like a gentle snake. “It makes me feel like people don’t respect you – or even me,” she said.
“Well, we can always just… web them to the ceiling,” you lightheartedly proposed. Your statement earned a humorous scoff from the blonde, before she suddenly pulled back from you to meet your eyes.
“That’s tempting…”
You furrowed your eyebrows faintly and smirked, “Well, that was also a joke,” you told her, “don’t actually do that whenever someone gets too close to me, okay?”
Gwen glanced up at the ceiling suspiciously and slowly peeled herself away from you, as her arms fell back to her sides. “No promises, babe.” You could only narrow your eyes at her in response, which caused her to laugh at your reaction. And the moment she turned around and sauntered back to the bed the both of you shared, you let out a quiet huff, before you shook your head in endearment and followed after her fleeting form.
This one clashed with my brain and in turn took me a minute to actually write out, so apologies if it isn't up to par. Also, this'll probably be my last fic for about a week or so, because I'll be moving in the next couple of days, and of course, that won't allow me to dedicate some of my time and effort to your requests.
And thank you for all the love on my other posts. I really appreciate it!
Feel free to put in your requests while I'm taking the temporary break, by the way. Just wanted to make a subtle announcement, just so no one thinks that I've disappeared off the face of the earth.
Much love!
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I have a request!! Y/N being sent on a mission by Miguel, them being gone for hours and not getting back at him makes Miguel check in on u over Layla & she has to him that they got hurt. A feral/worried Miguel going in for the rescue of a badly injured Y/N, taking care of their wounds and staying by their side. Once they regain consciousness -> lots of apologies and fluff/tenderness would be awesome!!
Thank u for reading this request of madness 🙈 x
Hi anon! Thanks for the request, I had to write it the moment I read it. GAH SOFT FERAL MIGUEL HAS ME IN A HOLD.
I hope you like this 💖💖💖
---
Unsaid words
"LYLA", he called for his assistant.
His eyes glued to the monitor, looking through street footage and maps. His eyes now awake with the thirst of knowing where you were. Your location marker turned offline and he drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong, his mind coming up scenarios that he wasn't very fond of.
"Where is she?", he asked next. His fingers turning into claws that bit into the top of his table.
He was impatient. No. He was worried.
He had stayed numb, not getting close enough to miss anyone but you, his heart began to race, you were special.
"I can't find here active data but it's certain that she's hurt.", LYLA responded. Instantly, he pushed away from his desk, he had to find you.
His suit covered his head with his mask, his claws now fully out as he had only one goal in his mind.
He turned his gadget to the universe you were sent to and jumped into the portal, he couldn't wait for it to open, he shouldn't have sent you alone, thoughts and feelings he had kept hidden were now rising to the surface. He struck his blade into the time fabric tearing it open.
Cold rain greeted him, covering the world he entered in a goulish green. A sign that the anomaly here would be one of the Doc Oc variants. And just as he had though it, he saw a silhouette with tentacled arms climb up a building. In one of its arms, he caught sight of the colour of your suit.
Anger rushed into his system, one mixed with the overwhelming need to protect you. He hadn't felt that in a long time, since he lost his universe. The tip of his tongue felt the sharp end of his fangs bearing out at the thought of losing you.
He didn't waste a second, his eyes were locked on his target.
You grappled against the cold metal that wrapped around your throat. Your feet dangling over the dark city. It was getting hard to breathe and in the state you were in, you were certain that if you were dropped from this height, it would be fatal.
The mask you wore was torn in half, allowing you to witness the sheer force of an object that slammed into the anomaly. Red blades gleamed against the eerie moon as clawed hands tore away a couple metal arms. You could recognize him anywhere. His large back over powering the anomaly as he slammed Doc Oc's face into the glass facade of the building. Over and over, he wasn't like himself, you had never seen him this triggered.
The anomaly lost consciousness and the red eyes in the tentacles flickered out, the grip around your neck easing. Fear filled your system, your eyes widening at what this meant, you clawed against the metal now to hold on, to not slip. But the rain made it difficult, the glass panes were too smooth, it made it impossible for you to catch onto any surface. You pressed into your web shooters only to for it to confirm with a hiss that it was broken.
It was all in slow motion, your body feeling the pull of gravity, the anomaly tilting head back into a fall and the red slits on his mask turning to you, widening as he watched you fall.
Capturing the anomaly was what was important, that was the mission, not one could be killed in action as they had to be returned into their respective universe. Whereas, you, you were expendable, fallen soldiers in this war no one knew about.
So who was he going to save?
Was this another one of his canon events?
But something within you caused you to scream out his name, some stupid want to feel his arms around you again, one last time. And that was what changed everything.
With inhuman speed he secured the anomaly to a broken steel column and dove towards you. He looked like he owned the skies, his blades stretching out against him like his wings, a streak of black, red and blue.
He didn't use his web to catch you, afraid that it would end like a few Gwen Stacy deaths. He retracted his claws, and reached out for you.
His weight enabled him to reach you faster in mid air. You felt his arms circle you, press you deep into his chest as he braced for impact. He held you tight as you felt the smell of tarmac beneath you. He had saved you, even though it wasn't a part of the mission.
With your ear pressed into his suit, you could hear the ferocity with which his heart was beating. He pushed away quicking to inspect you, his thumb tracing over a scratch across your cheek making him grumble. As though you were his priced work of art and someone had defied him to hurt you.
"You came.", was all you could muster to say.
"Of course I would.", he spoke softly as he carried you in his arms.
Now this made you feel like you were untouchable by any force that ever existed. Nothing could be strong enough to pull you away from him.
"lo siento llegué tarde.", he drew closer to you as help arrived to clean up the scene.
"You were right on time.", you responded to ease his worry, which surprised you. He never worried about anyone in this way.
"Oh you've found her!", LYLA popped up next to him.
"He was losing his senses over at HQ.", she laughed.
"LYLA", he warned her.
"What?", she winked at you as she acted innocent.
"Leave us.", he ordered and she disappeared.
His gaze was on you, you could tell with how the eyes on his mask softened.
"I was afraid I might lose you.", he said quietly as he stroked your exposed jaw. His warm touch eradicated the biting cold sting of the rain.
"Where you?", you asked watching his mask unravel, exposing his nose and lips.
You could feel where this was heading, you craved it. But to see him nod to your question in a way that it was the absolute truth set your heart on fire. He had saved you, there was no grander gesture than that. It spoke more loudly than what he could put into words. He held the side of your face that your mask didn't cover, your left cheek, the tip of your nose and your lips.
He leaned down, his hot breath over your cheek sent your mind into an overdrive as he softly kissed you, a cliche. Maybe it was his canon event, the usual spidey kiss.
The pain in your body evaporated just for this second as you kissed him back. Your reaction causing him to pull you closer, as though it was a confirmation. Your intuition in tune with what he was feeling, unsaid words could remain unsaid. Instead he spoke with his hands and a racing pulse in his throat.
He pulled away, his lips now spread out in a smile as the suit engulfed his face again.
"Let's get you cleaned up first and then continue this later.", he chuckled as he opened the portal.
Now that was a command you didn't mind obeying.
#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099
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New Watch
Pairing: Hobie Brown x Spiderperson!Reader
Summary: Hobie goes to your universe instead of his own after quitting.
Word Count: 1201
No use of Y/N and I didn’t really write his accent in all that much. There’ll probably be another part of how they met and readers whole backstory. Thinking it’ll be a miniseries because I love the spiderperson I created.
“Just for the record, I quit.” Hobie types in all too familiar numbers before backing into the portal and tossing his watch.
You’re in the middle of pouring water into the pan below the bread in the oven when the familiar sound of a portal opening in your living room greets your ears. A smile crosses your face as the heavy footsteps from your favorite Spider-Man variant make their way into the kitchen. You continue humming to yourself as you close the oven and remove your mitts and the steps stop meaning he’s probably leaning against the doorway instead of coming any farther in.
“Hey Hobie.” You turn around and focus your bright smile at him. He smiles at seeing the state you’re in, taking in your apron on top of your brown cami and floral print skirt and the flour smeared on your face. It only fades when he spots the bruise on your cheek from earlier that morning.
“What happened ‘ere, Turtle dove?” He crosses the room and cradles your face tilting it up so he can get a better look while softly brushing it with his thumb.
“It’s nothing, really. Just had a run in with Man-wolf this morning, I got a gnarly slash in my side too which finally stopped bleeding a couple hours ago.” Hobie huffs out his displeasure, as much as your universe is the prettiest he’s seen, you sure have some of the more monstrous villains. Your hand holds onto the one caressing the bruise and you turn to place a kiss on his palm. “I’m okay though. How’s everything at the society?”
“I quit.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal before walking past you and starting to go through your junk drawer. “Where’d you put that da-” He gets cut off as he glitches.
“Jesus Christ Hobie, you got rid of your watch?!” You rip the apron off before rushing off to your bedroom in a panic. “You shouldn’t have come here without it, you know how dangerous this cell decay stuff is. You should’ve gone back to your own universe instead.” You pull out the day pass he stole and stashed here about a month ago from your bedside table while you go on about how dangerous it is that he came here instead of going home.
“Had to come see you, fill you in.” Hobie comes up behind you plucking it from your hands and sliding it on. “Besides, knew you had one o’ these lying around.”
“Hobie this is serious, you gotta go home.” You go to open up a portal to send him home when he snatches your own watch from your wrist.
“Nah.” His hands go into his vest pockets before he turns and heads back towards your kitchen.
“Nah?” You follow shortly after finding him sitting at your kitchen island. His chaos of changing colors clashes with the pastel surroundings of your cottage and it was almost jarring to see the first few times but has since become one of your favorite sights. “What do you mean ‘nah’?”
“Pix, as cute as you are when you’re mother henning me, you should stop and come sit with me while I explain.” He dangles your chunky green sweater in one hand while his other pulls out bits and bobs from his pockets.
“Fine.” You sigh while grabbing the sweater and folding your wings against your back from where they spread out in your worry.
“Remember that kid Miles I told you Gwendy talks about?” He starts as you sit down next to him. You hum your confirmation because while you still haven’t met Gwen he’s brought up her mentioning Miles a few times. As he continues catching you up on Spot and Miles following Gwen through a portal into Pav’s dimension he works on putting all the bits and bobs together. Once he has the screen together you realize what he’s making.
“Woah, hold on. Are you making your own watch?” You interrupt his story just as he’s getting ready to tell you about how Miguel just about lost his mind and snag the work in progress out of his hand.
“Ay, been nicking parts for it for a while now.” He leans on the counter watching as you turn what he has together around in your hands, studying it.
“Babe, this is cool and all but why wouldn’t you just hack into your old watch and take the tracker out of it?” He’s about to respond when you eye the small spikes in front of him. “Oh, I see. You just wanna make it punk rock to fit your whole vibe.” He rolls his eyes and takes it from your hands.
“It’s the principle of the thing. Why continue to use something given to me when I can stick it to the man and make my own?” He looks back over to find you nodding because you get it. “When’s your bread supposed to be done?”
“Probably soon.” You hum and turn your head to look at the oven timer over your shoulder. “You care if I start cleaning my mess while you work?”
“Better get on with it love.” You smile and kiss his cheek before getting up.
The two of you work in silence for a while. With you cleaning and taking the bread out of the oven when it went off and him putting together the watch. Every so often he’d fiddle with your spider society watch to make sure he’s putting it together properly. Each time you passed by him you’d either give his shoulder or arm a squeeze or place a kiss wherever you could reach, his cheek, his shoulder, his head, sometimes he’d turn his head so you could get his lips. By the time dishes are done and your countertops are all clean the bread’s cooled down and his watch is complete.
“So if it’s done what’s with all the extra pieces?”
“Gonna drop this one off for Gwen for if it don’t work out then come back and make my own.” He stands and puts in Earth 65 for the destination. “I’ll be in and out, back in five minutes tops.”
“Alright, you might as well take my watch apart and make me one when you get back. Miguel already doesn’t care much for me and the feelings pretty mutual. And I don’t wanna be a part of his little club if I’ll be stuck going on missions with Ben.” You cringe at the idea of having to go on another mission with him. The last couple of times you’ve been forced to have been borderline torture.
“Have I told you I love ya’ lately?” His arm drapes around your shoulder and he leans down to be nose to nose with you.“Hmm, you may be lacking there.” You can’t help but tease him to see the smile he always gets on his face when you do. “I love you too. Go drop the watch off and when you come back I’ll make dinner while you work.”
“See you in a minute, love.” He gives you a kiss before opening up a portal and stepping backwards through it.
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#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#spider punk x reader#hobie brown x you#spider man: across the spider verse
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